


The Reason I Run

by Sukila



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alien Character(s), Alien!Frisk, Alternate Character Interpretation, Backstory, Brainwashing, Conditioning (The Psycological Kind), Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Escape, Family, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hiding Eyes, Human Experimentation, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Multiple Personalities, Mute Frisk, Okay I lied: Major Canon Divergence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, PTSD Frisk, Parent-Child Relationship, Partial Mind Control, Shapeshifting, Slight Canon Divergence, To Be Continued, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 38,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukila/pseuds/Sukila
Summary: '"My child, what would you like to do now?" There was a question you had hoped would never come.' At the end of your journey you are forced to make a decision, to either choose to return, or just simply wait until your family was ripped from you again. Humans are so different, living as something less than one has taught you that. But why would you choose to return? Only you know. (Pic in desc. by MillyTheCat on deviantart)I may edit or rewrite this...eventually.





	1. The Question That Haunts Me

**Author's Note:**

> Blame the book, "The Girl Who Can Fly," (Victoria Forester) and Voltron for inspiring all this weirdness. 
> 
> Songs I listened to while writing:  
> Never Alone (Barlowgirl), Copycat (Jubyphonic), Hurry Up and Save Me (Tiffany Giardina), I'm Just Your Problem (Adventure Time),  
> I Want You Here (PLUMB), If Everyone Cared (Nickelback), Lean On (Major Lazer and DJ Snake),  
> Monster How Should I Feel? (Dubstep), Memories (Kshmr & Bassjackers), Muddy Water (LP), Purple (Mandopony),  
> You Are a Useless Child (Umber), and Original Lyrics An Ending Undertale (Bumble-lily)

The Reason I Run

 

“My child, what would you like to do now?”

There was the question you had hoped would never come. Your hand trembled, curling into a fist as you recalled when you first left her. When you left because you knew it was doomed to never last. Truly, you had felt happy at every instance of escape but so dejected, a part of you died every time they forced you back, and now, what was left but the broken pieces after the best parts of you were gone? Hope had been shown to your soul everyday you saw something that wasn’t white, rounded edges and one-way glass that only served as a constant reminder to you that all humans are not the same.

Would humans accept monsters as you had? It was true that some had helped you but you always looked human yourself, and now...now that you’ve seen creatures called, “monsters,” act so kind...what would you call yourself? They said you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a monster within. Since monsters were so kind...perhaps you could say you were a demon, a force of evil, a chaos-bringing abomination; that last one seemed right. Why these monsters had ever thought you could be human, much less a human they had once known, was beyond your comprehension.

You can still see the hand holding yours, a voice assuring you that you’ll be okay, even as guns fire and bombs drop; fire spreading like disease. It brought back fond memories of the hand like yours, purple and familiar as it held you up and called you their beautiful little kit. This was, of course, the reason you clung so fiercely, in hopes you might return to your mother. They had, after all, always promised this. Broken voices of a dozen different humans that all promised to help you, to save you, to return you to your mother; all gone.

Yours is a past you’d wish upon no one. Living the life of the exile countless times. Your slow-aging making you a child forever in their eyes, something innocent, pure, and in need of protection. They’ll kill them just like the rest, or even worse, they’ll leave you to die when they see what you are. When eyes open and they see nothing but blackness in place of white sclera and the ring of white for an iris. This is why you would rather fall off a cliff in your own self-imposed blindness than show anyone. Such fear compelled the desire, the same desire to hide the spreading purple that came when you felt strong emotions, like embarrassment, surprise, fear, even joy.

The spreading of such colors reminded you of the past, back when you actually thought you were human; that your imprisonment was unjustified as your savior had claimed. It happened delicately and slow, like a rash it grew. Blushes once deep pink turning a chilling blue that made your paleness stand out. Freckles turning white across your nose and under your eyes, then darkening to a deep violet when your pigment changed. You still didn’t know why you could control it now but before it persisted for so long. You can still remember the deepening fear as it grew on your skin, the fear of death, the fear of what you were. Because it was not human.

The eye change had been the most frightening event of all. You had been staring at a mirror with widened eyes, still normal with a golden iris, at the strange color spreading itself onto your skin that had suddenly sped up exponentially. Your arms reaching to hug your body and shut your eyes tight as an unfamiliar feeling dug into your chest. Rubbing tentative fingers that soon turned rampant as they rubbed your arms and felt the odd sensation. Spikes of a jarring feeling clawing deeper and deeper into your body, eyes shooting open and glimpsing at the mirror one more time, seeing black drain into white. Terrified eyes closed to this realization, that not only were you completely purple, you were also completely unrecognizable to even yourself.

When you finally mustered up the courage to look again the tears you were shedding were teal and glowing softly, they puddled on the floor and appeared almost radioactive and were thick like goo. That was when you finally let out a scream, only to find your voice silenced. You were at a loss of what to do, your tears were glowing, your body was a violet shade, your eyes were black, and your hair...it was, thankfully, a similar color to your previous dark-brown; black. Your sense of hearing had changed, probably due to the purpley, fox-like ears in your hair where the strands were more gray, contrasting the patches of white and silvery hairs mixed within. The odd sensation on your skin was where...fur...had grown, still purple, that matched fuzzy ears and the fluffy appendage that stuck out on your lower back. A tail...a cat tail. When the transformation was completed it only took a few minutes for your hysteria to cloud your mind enough for you to fall unconscious.

The facility that kept you seemed like it had been waiting for your change, probably since they had known about your mother. It had once acted as a sort of school but now you no longer attended classes or interacted with anyone. Isolation was a common punishment in the facility but never for this long. Your friends knew not to look for you now that you were gone, your teachers knew never to expect you again, just like you knew never to expect seeing them again either. Children weren’t dumb at the facility and they knew that a disappearance wouldn’t be noted, except by those who remembered. Disappearance meant one of three possible outcomes; that you were dead, isolated, or released. Release wasn’t common and was only a myth among the populace, saying that children that grew until they were much older and showed no signs of anything odd were simply let go with a promise to be silent; into a world they knew nothing about… Death was for the uncooperative or those that turn feral after their traits reveal themselves. Isolation came for the obedient, to be studied and, possibly, transferred to a facility for older children that taught them control.

This was the place that really showed you the difference in humans. When you’ve been a child this long you’ve participated in numerous escape attempts. Younger kids, still clinging to hope of freedom and wide open skies; the rebellious ones were always the ones with stories of the outside. You’ve been in countless operations, dozens of failed and successful plans that led you to the outside world. They always brought you back but never kept you isolated permanently, since the only oddities surrounding your being had been the slow aging process. Your guess was that they were trying to get you to rub off on the other children with that trait, like some sort of spore; or they were just trying to get a kid they’d have to deal with for a long time to be more obedient.

You don’t know what happened to the other kids after they escaped, you caught glimpses of some, here and there, but not all. Perhaps some never got caught again… Then your memory always shifts to how many hands have held yours and you brush this notion away. This time had been the last, you promised yourself this. One last time before you gave up and let them have you if they caught you; one last game of hide-and-seek. Since they always won no matter where you went you knew it was pointless, and yet...there you were, organizing a lone attempt for the first (and last) time. It was a simple plan that was weeks in the making, utilizing your night-vision, wall-climbing, and more temporary transformation abilities (blending with walls was always much more difficult, especially when you have to stay so still...becoming people was much harder as well, you could only prolong changing simpler traits; like skin color and hair). Avoiding the heat-sensors had been the hardest part, despite your blood’s new color it was still warm like any human’s.

You could still recall alarm rings as they found your bed empty, climbing that mountain, and...tripping. Tripping over a vine while running, looking back to see if anyone was on your tail (not to say anyone was treading on your actual tail, of course). Then a feeling of great relief turning into weightlessness and dread as you spied the long fall. Instincts should have kicked-in, a fight-or-flight reflex making you grip the walls on the opening with your claws but nothing came. Fear locked your body and you fell; you know this to be true because of the pounding in your skull when you woke. That flower spoke to you and it was scary. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t have the soul of a human but how could you? Bullets surrounded you and you were sure that death had come for you at last.

Fire saved you, flames you had come to think of as horrifying after your mother was taken seemed to wrap you in a barrier of warmth and safety. A hand as fuzzy as yours in its (true?) alternate form touched your cheek, red eyes examining your face that were so full of concern as they brushed over the cut on your cheek. Numerous others marked your body from blindly running through the woods; they stung. You could barely see through your lidded eyes that hid your secret. She called you her child and took your hand in yours, normally the action would have only brought back pain but...the fuzzy feeling of her fur on your flesh was so familiar that it nearly brought you to tears. She embraced you after you held your arms up to her in a needy fashion and fell asleep in arms just like mother’s. Truly, your first memory of Toriel is still the brightest in your journey through the Underground, which is probably why fighting her was the scariest moment of your life; and refusing her was heartbreaking.

‘I have other places to be.’


	2. The Picture That Reminds Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan, for the sake of continuity, to start leaving a little list of items to be used in the future. This is where most of the canon divergence comes in, the things Frisk will find are different and will, therefore, have different uses. Frisk will often spend time collecting little trinkets (some of which will never be used at all) and reminiscing; often traveling under the cover of darkness when no one is awake. Though let me know if this chapter was too dull (especially considering the previous cliffhanger implied the Toriel fight) since I could always condense these moments into smaller bits by simply having Frisk travel when monsters are awake at all times instead of only certain days; as the main reason this was so long was because I wanted Frisk to actually see the ruins and interact with all the monsters to a point without actual speaking or fighting.
> 
> Do also note that most of the canon divergence, besides to differing objects, is simply going to be differing actions (like walking around at night) for Frisk since they are VERY different. They take comfort when they can in anything (like the cat-bunny or the dummy) they scavenge without really caring about it being stealing, etc. If you find this confusing, let me know if you want me to change Frisk's name or call them something different when referring to 'this Frisk,' in the future; though I do have something already planned... (but that's a secret!).
> 
> Chara may be included but I may just make this centralize around Frisk, though in homage to the first fallen child I did make a reference to an AU, which I will mention, along with a few other fun little stuff you may have missed, at the ending notes.
> 
> One last thing: The reasoning for why the sweater is different? Frisk turns purple, what was once their favorite color has turned into something that shows that they are inhuman and that they are showing their true colors (pun intended). So I, instead, based it off the unused model and took the colors as inspiration from the surface.

The Reason I Run

  


“Well, I hope I am not keeping you...”  
“Frisk…”  
“‘See you around.’” Her departure was fast and just as teary as your own; but your tears would have to wait until you were sure no one could see.

  


In your life you had to prepared for many things, awakening in someone else’s bed with cuts and scrapes all bandaged up was occasionally one of those. Sometimes it was the forest floor and a blanket, other times bandages and a sleeping head resting across from you. All of it varied, just like the people that grew with you. Some saw what you were and understood the tortured feeling of living as a child for so long; too long. Others were envious, and some...it was better not to say…

In either case, an escape route was often left open for you, just a quick trips through the window or door so you could free yourself from their hair. Sometimes they pursued and held onto you until you were convinced that they would finally be the one to help you. After every disappointment one would think you’d have learned. Then again, that is why you always try to leave in the first place; a lack of hope and a wish to not witness such sadness in yet another loop. Which is probably why you swung your short legs over the bed after only a few moments of disorientation, briefly opening your eyes to examine the room you have found yourself in.

Numerous pairs of shoes lay discarded in a box and many toys and broken frames; all coated in a fine layer of dust. You rummage about in the shoe box and find the only pair that isn’t ill-fitting, a pair of brown boots, and take some socks from the drawers beside the bed. The closet is filled with striped sweaters so you take one that interests you; a yellow shirt with bright-green stripes. The yellow reminded you of your human eyes and the bright sun, the green paying homage to bright grasses. You donned the blue pants left at the bottom of the closet, lost under bags of seeds and some old drawings with a few other colors; as well as a some smaller clothing that was seemed similar to the woman that had helped you.

You brushed aside any ill-intent at the numerous pairs of clothing, assuming the furry woman had once that a child. Perhaps they had grown already, or even left to find their own way; like you had. Your eyes wandered back to the box of dust-coated toys, digging through them as well until you located one with a soft body and a button nose. A bunny? It looked more like a cat with very long ears and was rather crudely sewn. You stow it in your pockets for no real reason, simply seeking something to hold onto after the disappearance of many of your toys over the years. You couldn’t just leave them behind, after all!

The last thing you notice is the drawing besides the lamp. A flower had been carefully drawn out, though it seemed the paper had wrinkled after too much water was used to paint the petals yellow. You let your hand brush the paper, unfortunately, this causes a thumbtack to come loose and the picture falls to the floor. You stoop to pick it up, moving the lamp off the table so as not to break it. It was a good thing you had done this, too, as the table toppled as you were collecting the thumbtacks; thankfully missing you. You hang the drawing back up and, while picking up the table, notice the drawer has come loose; a paintbrush has fallen out! You take the brush and let it rest in your shorts pocket, along with the cat-bunny, as you put everything back into order.

Staying quiet, you carefully exit the room, once more using your night vision to get around. Though it seemed squinting still leaves your image rather small, you couldn’t risk anyone seeing your glowey eyes! You crept through the halls, taking note of the doors you passed as you counted your steps. The end of the hall came faster than expected, leaving nothing but a mirror. You took a moment to... _reflect_ upon yourself as your eyes slowly opened. It was eerie, to see such eyes in the middle of darkness; surrounded by shadows you certainly looked menacing. You jerked your eyes away at this thought and soon became somber as you retreated back down the hall. Someday...you would have to accept that...that is not you; you knew this all too well.

Thankfully, such depressing things were put on hold as you stumbled into another table, gasping and quickly reaching out to hold it in place, you were quite lucky to have not shattered the vase on top. You checked this drawer as well, nothing inside but a nearly used-up set of watercolors that looked like they had seen better days, some bandaids, and some broken colored-pencils. None of it really interested you except the colors but since they were almost useless at this point you just took the bandages. Taking a big breath, you continued on, taking note of the staircase as you scurried through the next room, barely lit by dying embers, and into the kitchen. You checked the fridge but there was nothing you could take, unless you counted the wrapper of a chocolate bar that lay crumpled within. However, after opening all the cabinets (oddly enough, the one dedicated to silverware had no knives) you did find a nice...apron? Smock? It was like a shirt with snaps in the back and was a dark-blue color. You left it tied round your waist and returned to the entrance.

Satisfied with your scavenging, you were set to leave except...for the basement. You decided some things were best left unseen as you opened the door and dashed into darkness. Signs, doors, “puzzles,” and a hidey-hole of sleeping monsters greeted you on your midnight journey. You came upon many things on this little adventure of yours; a bowl of candy (you took one but you’re allergic to taffy so you left it for a sad little creature that seemed to be having a nightmare and was crying out in fright). Some holes you fell through (containing some bushes that appeared to be...snoring?) made you quite thankful for all those bandaids you had to cover scrapped knees. A pretty red ribbon that you tied in your hair, a wooden knife that you tucked into your pocket, nestled up against the paintbrush and a few vegetables you had found in the sleeping plants.

Frogs the croaked quiety in the halls, three in particular stood out , along with a little one that sat atop another snoozing amphibian; it was so tiny! On and on you traveled through purple halls, falling into crinkling, red leaves and carefully backtracking so as not to run into any traps that were not yet triggered. Eventually you are at the very beginning of the ruins, then back to the room where she saved you. You didn’t feel the want to linger in that area so you moved further back to the room where you first found yourself. A bed of yellow flowers had broken your fall but in your muddled state of mind you had paid little attention. Now you were drawn to them, reaching out a hand to brush the petals of the still budding plants. You hesitated but then let your hand brush the smooth surface; seeing things like this made you reminisce about older times. When your eyes were still golden, even as they followed the movements of your mother when you ran. You wondered if your mother would have missed those eyes, or if she would have been proud of your new ones; the ones that refuse to change.

These questions are what you pondered as you walked back, seeing nowhere to go but forward, with a buttercup in your hair and bandaids on your hands after the flowers irritated the skin. Letting the night continue it’s silence, with only your footsteps as company, you trudge back. Stopping to creep around a napping ghost and examine the empty webs of the so-called, “Spider Bake Sale.” As well as taking a moment to take the rest of the candy in the bowl. You give a piece to each monster you pass by, including a monster with one eye that reminded you of yourself, and a bug-like one that looked so sad on his own. You felt bad for it later but you also stopped at what seemed to be a pile of goop to drop a candy in and watch it slowly fall into the bottom and float within the goopy pile; dissolving slowly. Creepy.

Despite these antics, you couldn’t seem to calm the sense of dread that deepened in your heart. This same draining feeling that always accompanied the somber regret of ever trusting when they fail to save you each time. It was becoming so common to just take and run that now you were preemptively doing it? The dummy didn’t respond when you told it these things in the best way you could; hand signals. Though it wasn’t as if you had expected a response, you hugged the dummy anyway, even if it was just a dummy, you were grateful that it listened. Your thoughts drifted back and forth as you put one foot in front of the other and you soon found yourself back at that house, at that staircase. You put a hand to the flower that hung from your hair, secured by the dusty ribbon from before, and took a deep breath. The same apprehension from before, clawing at your stomach in a worrying fashion as you eyed the dark passageway. There was no way but forward from here, it was only too bad that you were leaving before even talking to the one who saved you (not that you were particularly good at conversation).

Maybe you just couldn’t handle another let-down, the tearing disappointment that came whenever the promises to help broke apart. Perhaps this time… _Step._ You didn’t want to be saved… _Step._ Though it was unclear if you were trying to save yourself. _Step. Step._ Or you had simply given up. _Step._ You decided that you weren’t sure, not that it mattered anymore, and decided to just move on this time; maybe it was just time to let go.

  


And so, with nothing more than a photo to remember them by, you leave them behind. Slimy, aquamarine liquid trailing down your cheeks and sticky in glops on the ground as you hugged the picture to your chest in an attempt to keep it dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed it?  
> -An italicized mirror pun (reflect).  
> -Chocolate wrapper references the, "Can't Sleep Without Chocolate AU."
> 
>  Thanks to:  
> Markala, CallaCaptor, and MordinSolis  
> For previously commenting and/or leaving kudos!
> 
>  
> 
> Current Inventory:  
> Weapon: Old Paintbrush  
> Armor: Worn Smock
> 
> +Cat-Bunny  
> +Used Bandages  
> +Bandaids  
> +Toy Knife  
> +Faded Ribbon


	3. The Homecoming That Scares Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cliffhanger is over! Let me know if you want more detailed fight scenes in the future since, to me, they never seem long enough...

The Reason I Run

 

Chilling winds seemed to slash at your unprotected hands and legs as you trekked down the mountain. It was still the dead of winter and the sun was already starting to set. Frost biting at your nose, you climbed ever onwards, towards the summit of Mt. Ebott. It was time to go home.

 

In retrospect, entering a stranger’s basement wasn't really the smartest of plans...but still your steps continued, echoing loudly through the halls. The sound was shocking as it cut through silence like a knife. Your hand went from railing to the damp walling as a long hall came to meet you. You dragged it over the wet, purple stones that had you comparing your tanned skin to the violet of the mortar. They were brighter than you were, if you recalled the color correctly. Though this thought was soon banished as you shook your head in an effort to ward it away. You needed to focus!

You came to the turn, peering into the hall ahead and taking a moment to check behind you as well. Still empty, the only accompanying sound being the drips that left little puddles on the floor. You kept forward until you found...a door. You nudged it a bit, it swung forward a bit as wind came through and let out a moaning sound. It seemed that it had already been open when you came in. You cautiously entered a long hall, spotting a light at the end, you were apprehensive about going...it seemed there was no going back if you left now. But the wind decided for you when a harsh wind blew inwards, like the entrance was sucking you in. The ribbon came loose from your hair and you raced to catch it, the flower falling in front of the door; forgotten in your haste.

You sprinted down the halls, the wind at your back, pushing you forwards. You reached your hand forwards, stumbling a bit and falling back, desperately running forwards as air rushed through your lungs. Thankfully, it seemed luck was on your side and you caught it just before it left the hall, though doing so caused you to trip on the frame of the door and fall; ribbon still clutched in your hand. The strong wind didn’t cease, insistently blowing forwards in a manner that made it almost impossible to venture back through the door. It was almost like magic in the way that it endlessly pushed. Wheezing and sweaty, you sat down in the place you had now found  
yourself. A dark room, not unlike the one where that...flower…

“Howdy!” You moved back. “You know, I never go to show you how things work in the Underground!” You cocked your head, still wary but willing to listen. “She came and interrupted before I could even finish.” He seemed angry but moved his stem to cock his head as well. He smiled wide and the color seemed to drain from the world. Your brain could only sense five options. Fight. Items. Mercy. Act. Flee. A feeling, bright and warm, bubbled in your chest as a pink light grew. A pale pink light detached itself from you and floated, sticking to your hands as you cupped them to hold it delicately.

“This is your soul, the very culmination of your being.” It stuck out like a sour thumb in the slowly brightening room, filling it with a soft lighting. What an obvious weakness. In your examining it, you didn't notice the little bits of white, small enough to almost blend in with the dust. They scratched it and you fell back, gasping in pain that stretched into your entire being. So this was what he had been planning when he first introduced himself…! You back up, cautiously dialing back as though he were a dangerous animal. You put your hand up while backing up, hoping, in vain, to get him to leave you be. You stumbled in your haste to scramble backwards and ended up flat on your back. Instinct took over as your body shifted into a crouch, unhappy at the vulnerable position as you let out a chilling growl. Unlike words, the sound was audible and the surprise alone nearly snapped you out of your daze.

White marks growing into lilac patches of fur as you opened your eyes and repeated the sound from before. You could tell your ears had changed from the sudden difference in hearing, hands digging in the ground signified claws, and sharp fangs that showed when you let out a snarl. It was odd that you were suddenly a lot more like a dog than a cat or fox but it didn't bother you if it was this helpful. Flowey seemed apprehensive and almost scared as he looked at you; teeth like a beast and legs bent at an angle to carry weight on four legs. The lavender wolf you now came to be seems to have decided that it was time for a fight; and fight you would.

What would all that spiel about saving yourself be worth, if you couldn't back it up, after all? Fear sat in your belly still but you pushed it back for now. You didn't know how a light-purple and white, humanoid wolf, charging at a flower would look but you were sure it was menacing as the flower was gone two seconds later. Adrenaline continued to course through your veins, however, heart pumping as fast as a hummingbird. Soon you were rolling in the grass, running all about the room, biting at the toy knife in your bag until it was all chewed-up. It was at this point that you felt calm enough to change back, knowing it would be impossible under such stress to look human again.

The telltale sounds of soles slapping against water warned you to hide. You curled up in the darkest corner of the room, trying to appear small and unnoticeable. She noticed. The monster woman from before… She was running frantically down the halls and was in the room in a matter of seconds. The same purple dress and fuzzy palms came into your, now smaller, line of sight. She was reaching for you, and you reached back. You didn't fall asleep this time, even though you were rather tired after a change like that. Her soft hands brushed your face.

“My child, are you alright?! Why would you run off like that?!” Her voice was panicked and you merely nodded drearily in response. It seems this wasn't very reassuring to her. Then...the flower. She tied it back in your hair with the ribbon you had hastily secured to your hair earlier; this time it was in a pretty bow. “Please do not scare me like that…” Her hug was desperate, her face a mess of teary wetness. You easily accepted her familiar gestures, though you knew all too well that it was for the wrong reason. Still, you had to move forward, this was your only option in order to be free. You pulled away, albeit very reluctantly, and as you looked at her...you wanted to tell her everything. You just didn't know how…so instead you gestured to the door.

“You...you wish to leave?” First you gesture to the wind, to show that return wouldn't happen anyway, but then made a walking motion with your hands. “No, you can't, just stay here with me, you can't defend yourself.” You looked down, eyes a bit tears, she was making this harder and harder you didn't think you could handle it if a woman so much like mom let you down too. You did the best thing you could think of, and started walking.

“My child...if you will not change your mind then...show me that you you can survive on your own…” Those same warm flames moved to block your path as she stood in front of the entranceway. The color drained from the walls, flowing down in a black liquid that littered the floor with the same blackness. A thick, musty feeling permeated the room and you realised your mistake as a familiar, pale pink light lit up. She wanted a fight and you can't just intimidate her like that flower. You didn't think you could handle a woman like mother looking at you with disgust either, so it would have to be in this form.

“Fight me...or run away!” Your skin itched as you resisted instinct with all your willpower. Hands reaching to take out the paintbrush, as the knife was nothing more than a chewed-up stick at this point, and let your hands fall on the ribbon she had lovingly tied in your hair. You wanted to run away from this, just like everything else you wanted to just go and never looked back. But going back was the only option you'd ever had so...maybe it was time to change that. You didn't think you could fight her though...and talking didn't seem like it would help this situation.

The paintbrush was stowed back in your pocket, you stealed yourself and kept knees bent; ready to run. Fire licked at the floor as she threw magical-attacks and you ran about, wasting precious moments as the flames formed burns and you held back tears. Stopping short to let out a silent cry only caused more burns and a never-ending cycle would form unless you were more careful. Your legs were strained but you kept going, sending the monster woman pleading looks whenever she paused. She looked more and more conflicted every time, the silence stretching on in an endless loop. Then...after lengthy moments of apprehension she...stopped. You resisted the urge to sink to your knees.

“Why are you making this so difficult? Just let me take care of you...if you leave...they, Asgore will kill you” You stood your ground, straightening despite your fear and similarly conflicted mind, “Pathetic...I cannot even save a single child.” You wanted her to watch after you but...it seemed your mind simply could not trust again. It pushed your wants to the back of your mind as you watched her try and understand. “No...I understand, it would not be right for you to grow up here, my loneliness, my fear...for you, my child, I will put them aside.” She sounded so alike to you, putting aside such things for the sake of sanity. You want to trust her to watch over you more than anything now, she really does understand but...you've already trusted too much and too many.

“My child…” She sweeps you into one more hug. “Please...I must ask that you not return here.” You nodded with a sad smile and she returned it; she presses an object into your hand and you find yourself wiping away the beginnings of tears as you wave goodbye. You never even knew her name...and yet you miss her already.

 

It had been late spring when you first came to the Underground. Already, quite the while had passed and you weren't sure if it would end up the way you thought this time around. You were gone for...weeks, a record-breaking achievement. Sure, you could have stayed in the Underground and been “free” forever but...slowly, your journey became something more meaningful as you resolved to help monster-kind; to not let yourself be so selfish. You only hoped they didn't decided to just kill you this time, it would be beneficial for them if they didn't though, you didn't plan to escape again. You would never be able to keep yourself from running back to the first real friends you've ever had; they deserved a better life and they couldn't have that if you stuck around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss It?  
> -The "Wind" is a trap. It blows the opposite of the way you want to go and it will probably be used again in the future to PUSH the plot in the direction I want.  
> -That was a pun. Get it?  
> -Inventory items will now be affected by battle and outside circumstances, as referenced by the "Chewed Toy" and "Charred Smock."  
> -Unfortunately, Frisk still does not know Toriel's name...  
> -Frisk acts like a cat, normally, though reverts to a dog of a more feral sense when threatened.  
> -Toriel didn't have the cell phone she gives Frisk in the game, so she gave Frisk hers; the other may be in the belly of a dog...  
> -Flowey won't be scared by that little trick again...so expect a reunion.
> 
> Thanks to:  
> ImperiumOfMan and C Square (Emiko842)  
> For previously commenting and/or leaving kudos!
> 
>  
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Old Paintbrush  
> Armor: Faded Ribbon  
> +Charred Smock  
> +Buttercup  
> +Chewed Toy  
> +Cat-bunny  
> +Toriel’s Phone


	4. The Flower That's Leaving Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, more of that canon-divergence I once said would be minimal...oops? What can I say? I took a theory, ran with it, then crushed it with humor and illogical nonsense I'll make sense of later; and more feels of course.

The Reason I Run

You held a flower, it was wilting and matched the color of the sun. There was another in your pocket with roots still intact for you to grow but...you hoped this one would grow as well. It was the first connection you had, the detour that allowed you to meet Toriel, even. Truly, you would treasure it for as long as it had left; much like your friends treasured you.

 

The moment you stepped outside, resisting the massive urge to look back, you were engulfed by cold. Snow littered the path of the forest and rained down at a constant rate. ...How was it snowing in a mountain…? You brushed the thought aside as unimportant (since then you'd start asking how it was windy in the Underground and the questioning would never end), and letting your eyes wander to the woods. It would be a good cover from the wind that blew fiercely at your face. The tree cover was thick as none of the pines or leafless willows had been planted with proper distance. Branches scratched at you, letting sharp pieces of bark swipe at your burn marks as you winced but continued forwards; blatantly ignoring the path.

When you were far enough, you looked back to see a camera, poised behind the bush near the entrance. As well as an eerie blue glow that had you stopping in your tracks. Where had you seen that before…? You turned around, ignoring your instincts as you put your hand to your bow on impulse as you ran, coming deeper and deeper into the forest of dead-looking trees that only served as an unwelcome remainder to the tree at the goat-woman's home. Your breath came out in short puffs of white, like a thick smoke, heart hammering in your chest. Unfortunately, it seemed looking back had already caused your inherent clumsiness to act up as you tripped on one of the larger branches that littered the forest floor.

A chain reaction soon followed that had you rolling down a huge hill, landing on an almost sideways tree. The cliff was steep from this point, though it looked like retreating upwards was out of the question… There was only one option. You carefully maneuvered yourself, swinging your legs onto the outstretched branch, shakily pulling them up so you could stand. Your vision seemed to grow dizzy for a moment as you balanced, swinging your arms wildly when you your foot rose a bit too far upwards. You swallow audibly, letting your legs bend and releasing to let them do a little hop on the branch. Nothing. You repeat the action, jumping a bit higher this time and still no reaction. Once more, this being your only thought as you jump as high as you can in this form, legs slamming back into the wood. The telltale sound of cracking soon follows and you scramble to sit down, straddling the log like before, before shaking it with your lower body as your hands hold a thinner part of the wood in a death-grip.

The feeling of falling soon follows as weightlessness lifts up your hair, eyes widening as you feel shock paralyse you, a look of dread on your face as black eyes look down. Although you can't speak anymore, you still opened your mouth and let out a desperate scream, ever silent, as you plummeted towards the ground. Droplets of goopy water floated near you as your eyes grew dry and terrifyingly wide enough to warrant such things. A sharp sting soon followed as the log hit the hilltop, the snow being a thankful cushion after a long fall; though you quickly too back any thanks as the log began sliding at breakneck speeds. The loose bark easily peeling off to leave a trail of brown that resembled the shedded skin of a snake and only made the ride faster upon faster as you cried out in terror.

You mentally cursed your silent vocal cords as your requests of help remained unanswered, leaning every which way to avoid thick trunks and fallen wood. Wind whipping your hair as long bangs snapped across your forehead like the familiar taunt of a rubber band as it burned your arm. Desperate to both close your fear-filled eyes to block out the mind-numbing terror of sliding down the hill, but also resisting the instinct with every fiber of your being in order not to crash into something and further increase the danger of your situation. The peripherals of your vision seeing nothing more than the blurred masses of trees, blending together no matter how hard you focused, though there wasn't much time to second check; your eyes immediately jerking back to the front whenever you hit a bump.

This charade continues for so long, you wonder if climbing back up will even be possible at this point; especially with all this snow… Though such thoughts rarely breached your mind with the distraction of your downward trek that felt like hours to icy fingers, a frozen face and toes, and the tiredness creeping up on you; pulling eyelids ever downwards despite yourself. The adrenaline of the fall was fading much quicker than your snowy journey and because of the fear of fainting, sharper than usual teeth were biting your lip raw.

You were even more thankful for wearing a sweater when the snapped wood finished descending to the ground, as it protected your arms from the harsh scrapes of snow. You tumbled off it as the momentum yanked it from your arms, before rolling onto the ground in a wet mess. The piece of tree slowly sliding to a stop as friction finally pulled enough to end its movement. Though it had skidded off rather far before coming to a stop… You picked yourself up, brushing off the snow with trembling hands, legs shaking until you were forced to sit again. The pins and needles informed you that that both limbs had fallen asleep during your downward trek; matching the pine needles sticking out of your clothes. You grimaced at the ones stuck all the way through to your arm, resisting the urge to cradle the injury so as not to further irritate it.

You finally decide to look back at the hill and find yourself staring in awe at the huge drop in height. Snow sitting to the edge of the cliff, becoming much thinner on the floor of the rocky chasm you now sat it. Like a fissure, it was fairly deep but stretched much farther than one. You waited for a while, simply taking a moment to take in your surroundings, before attempting to stand again. The feeling of prickling had ended but you were still shaky on your feet as you walked forward, towards what seemed to be an exit into an area with shorter walls. Kicking a rock forward towards your path only further agitated your tired limbs so that ended fairly quickly. Your eyes blinked rapidly to keep open and aware, it was lightening above you as monsters lite lamps and sunlight was let in through cracks. It was still pitch-black in the fissure, appearing lighter to your enhanced eyes, which were now completely open and wide as you asserted the situation.

The exhaustion creeping up on you was affecting your mental ability, the ground looking more and more tempting as a spot to nap. You didn't dare sleep in the cold, it might have been fine with fur but you wouldn't dare change here either, it was far too open. Still...with the shivering it was quite the resistance you had to put up to keep from simply wearing yourself with the purple coat. Taking a moment to tuck your hands into your sleeves more securely, you almost panicked from the slight, pale blue coloration before realizing it was just the cold. A sigh of relief followed for the little victories as you reached the end of the darkness, reaching the light that had been streaming from this side. It was a valley, still snowy but with much softer ground; dirt. You gazed upwards and spied a rickety-looking, wooden rope-bridge hanging between two cliffs and even more ropes hanging above the bridge held an abundance of weapons; and a dog. Odd.

Forwards was more intriguing, however. A wooden cabin with visible lights in the windows lay in the valley. Though it almost seemed to disappear if you turned your head too far to the left. A cardboard cutout of a person, painted a deep blue and rather crudely made, stood in front of it; though you could swear you saw it move once or twice it was always the same when re-examined. The door was locked but the key hung on the cutout’s hand. You politely bowed your head, gesturing that you were going to the borrow the key and enter. The cutout stood still but you still felt rather reassured when the key, as if on cue, dropped onto the snow. Then you sighed, as you were talking to a cardboard cutout as if it were people. Get ahold of yourself…

The key enters the locked with little trouble, despite the fact that both should be near frozen right now. Inside is...a yellow paper over the window with an old oil lamp besides it, long since burned out. The furniture was old, all of it coated with a sheen of dust all too familiar to the bedroom you stayed in at the purple area. The door slams shut behind you when you're finally inside, making you jump. The cabin is dark, the yellow paper allowing in minimal light due to its thickness. It's warm inside, the fireplace, once empty, had started on its own. You felt at ease despite the strange atmosphere that would make most normal people rather apprehensive. Darkened circles the ringed the underside of your eyes an obvious indicator of your exhaustion as you plopped down on the bed, head nodding before you occasionally jolted, convinced you should wait and be sure. Your tired form waited up to no avail, it seemed no one was coming so you wiped off the pillow, finding the dust on the bed very minimal compared to the rest of the room. The fire roared as you sighed in content, ignoring your growling stomach as you lay down, covers pooled around your waist. You didn't have the strength to reach them and yet you found them pulled up to your chin, accompanying the feeling of an invisible hand rubbing your head. You were thankful it didn't pull away until you fell asleep since, in the state of delirium you were in, you probably would have reached out for it to stay.

 

Though the flower was only a remainder of a memory. A memory telling the tale of how fleeting happy things were. You may have this plant so you can grow a garden back at the facility but...the flower that had first drawn you to fight for this place...would wilt. It would dry-out and reach its inevitable demise, just like the wonderful journey you found yourself on; just like the memories that you desperately wanted to cling to and yet also forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -The cabin is in the game but disappears when on the bridge, which is why I included the slight illusion. The man is also present, moving about and going inside and outside the home; I decided to just make it all a facade.  
> -If it wasn't obvious the covers being pulled up and the pat on the head were both references to the True Lab gameplay.  
> -I had a TON of fun writing the sledding scene...heh heh.  
> -No inventory change so instead I added some description to all existing items to help add a sense of time passing.
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Old Paintbrush (Same old, same old)  
> Armor: Faded Ribbon (Frayed)  
> +Charred Smock (Nearly demolished...)  
> +Buttercup (It's missing a petal)  
> +Chewed Toy (Nothing more than a painted stick)  
> +Cat-bunny (It's still damp)  
> +Toriel’s Phone (It's miraculously still functional)


	5. The Wanting That Drives Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new friend and a feeling of determination. (Sorry for the short chapter by the way but...I found a really good place to stop).

The Reason I Run

The scent of pines was fresh in your mind as you traversed familiar woods. They reminded you of all the escapades, where did those times go? You no longer felt like a child as you inhaled that fresh, piercing scent. For you may be much older than any child but your mind aged with your slow-growing body, and now...for the first time, you felt lost. There was no purpose after you went back, you didn't feel like trying this again after a journey so long and fulfilling. Surely nothing would compare. Though that sense of maturity was lost as you felt pale, teal goop start to spill down my cheeks, because you are a child; a child without anyone left in their world…

 

For the first time in awhile, you were still where you had fallen asleep. The fire had dimmed but was still roaring on. Your head felt heavy and seemed to pound, the room swelling and contracting with unstable vision. You sniffled, stifling a sneeze as you carefully sat up. Instant relief came to your nose, though the scent of the fire did not return. It was cold but your growing need rose quickly and, eventually, you found yourself racing outside; returning moments later with cold skin and regrets. You felt sore, even more so than after that ride down the cliff side with, still-fresh, burns.

You gazed about the room, already back in bed. It was quiet and yet...you felt like you weren't alone. It was comforting, despite shivers in your spine. Looking about the room yielding an ampt description. A brick fireplace, accompanied by a plush, red rug. A small bed and an armchair, both covered with matching, knitted blankets. A kitchenette in the corner sported wooden counters and cabinets to accompany a fridge, a table, four chairs, and a sink. It was quite cozy and reminded you of the house of the woman, back in the purple part of the Underground, mixed with the many cabins you've stayed in before.

One roll later you're on your other side, the wall isn't as interesting but it was helping your head. You fall into a fitful sleep, drifting in and out of consciousness for what seems like weeks. Dreams blurring together, occasionally letting your head nuzzle into the hand that lay on it. Your confused mind didn't really question, though the one time you did turn around to look, the motion continued in the empty room. Perhaps the person was invisible? Either way you soaked up the comfort like a sponge, the warming touch so different to those at the lab and those that pulled at your hand before. That was all you remember of your previous guardian ships at times...just dozens of hands clinging to your own, pulling until theirs or yours severs in your dreams. The dead weight of a mass of flesh that clung and spread a cold, dead feeling into your wrist.

Not one had taken your hand, fearing they would scare you away. The only people who had were that woman...and your mother; long before you ran from the fire. Your hand reached into your pockets, pulling out Bunny-Cat and holding them close; despite the slight wetness. Face brushing insistently against the toy as you sighed in both content and a deep sadness as your eyes continued to merely gaze at the wall. The hand at your head returned and you let your fingers brush against it, it was cold and you almost pulled back, until they let their fingers untangle with yours. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ in their direction, turning back your head to an empty area to do so. You held that cold, sturdy hand for a long time, holding your eyes open so you wouldn't have to stop, until they finally fell shut; fingers still entwined with theirs.

This pattern continued until your nose could, once again, pull in air and your body’s trembles had ceased. You like to think that in this time you learned something...that being invisible must be the loneliest thing in the world. People pull away for fear of a ghost instead of seeing what just wanted to be there… The pulling at your sleeve before you packed up your things was a sign of that. You fumbled with your fingers, still holding the book he had given you as you translated your speech.  
‘Don't worry, I'll see you again, my friend.’ Little words on the page in a script he had shown me the translation of as well.  
‘I hope to see you soon, Frisk.’  
‘Goodluck, Gaster.’

Food packed, along with all your essentials, you waved with a tears smile that you knew went both ways. In those short couple of weeks you had learned so much, and made a friend you knew would always be in your fondest memories and, hopefully, the future. You stepped carefully through mounds of snow, a fire in your heart as you buttoned-up your wool coat, taking out a rope and hook from your worn messenger-bag. It was quite the climb, it made you glad to have help. You chucked it, holding one end of the rope, it came back and you repeated the motion until you felt the rope’s slack being tugged by a tree. You tested it, pulling harshly until you were assured it was safe, then tied the rope to your waist as you walked up the, almost vertical, hill.

It was slow going, rope-burns a common occurrence on your hands, ripping through bandages and bandaids until you had no more to cover the burning, red skin. Thankfully the cuts were, more or less, healed, though the few that had scabbed over were already bleeding again. Going down the mountain hadn’t exactly been fun but...it seemed going up was much worse. The thick tree-line was just barely in sight, fingers pained from climbing that protested even as you anchored yourself to a tree and threw the hook once more. You didn’t stop, for you knew it wasn’t safe, the fluttering feeling brought on by your friend’s kindness a flame in your heart and knowing this filled you with a determination unlike any other.

This feeling surged with great importance in your soul as you panted, letting your body rest a bit before immediately plunging back into the fray. Bloodied rope swinging again and again as it’s hook hit snow twice, three times, four, then the harsh steadiness of a tree. Without thinking you pull, ever-moving forward until...the rope goes slack. You hastily look upwards, hands tugging and tugging in an effort to unstick the hook. You have a choice, untie the rope and let your only means of moving forward fall back into the chasm, or hope that you could possibly pry the hook from the falling tree in time.

Your mind thinks about multi-tasking for a moment before immediately throwing this out the window. No time. Foolishness and sentimental-value clouded your mind as you went with the latter rather than the safer former. Better to be able to make progress then fall down there again, you wouldn’t come back nothing more than a dejected child that had gotten cocky. The snag ran deep and you were sure you saw everything you had ever known come as a memory as the wooden object came tumbling past you, the slack coming closer and closer. Your eyes burned, movements growing frantic as you continued in vain. Death approached with a somber smile and you ran from it until you could intake no breath without pain in your chest. Truly, you would forever remember the first time you died and the sharpness of the cloaked man’s scythe.

 

Hands wiped at those tears. Hands coated in bandages, burn scars, cuts, bruises, and more. You let them cross your face again and again, dragging your sleeve under a dripping nose. Falling to your knees, you wept, silent screams echoing in your mind as you sobbed for all you had lost. Perhaps it was hours before you finally ran out of tears and your shakes quelled, only to be replaced by cold. Though it didn't take long before your energy was too spent to even do that much. You wanted to just curl up and forget, yet your feet continued ever forward; walking you obediently back to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Gaster gave Frisk a crash-course on both Sign-Language and Wing-Dings.  
> -Frisk's Sign-Language book is written in Wing-Dings.  
> -Frisk was sick in the cabin for just over two weeks.  
> -And so begins the moment you were waiting for, the first save and load.
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Messenger Bag  
> Armor: Wool Coat  
> +Charred Smock  
> +Faded Ribbon  
> +Buttercup  
> +Chewed Toy  
> +Bunny-Cat  
> +Toriel’s Phone  
> +Wing-Dings Translation Guide  
> +Sign-Language Book  
> +Leftovers


	6. The Two That Watch Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, sorry it took so long but I actually had this done four days ago, I just didn't want to try and update on a device rather than my computer since I had no power. (I swear I'm not falling into old habits...maybe I'll finish Stability someday heh heh...)

The Reason I Run

Have you ever felt the lingering presence after all this? Yes, ever since it disappeared from your sight you still always felt it there. Although that part of them was gone, they would always follow and watch. Much like the stalking of a comrade in arms they would continue forward with you, a beacon of hope in an icy storm. Keeping down the urges to simply give-in to instinctual desire and tear apart the world and everything in it. You would always know that they would watch you, both of them, even back in hell. Perhaps it was, instead, that that drove you forward despite the doubts. Despite everything screaming at you to run back to your friends and hide, you round be brave for them so long as those two watched your back and kept you safe.

 

Can you say you've ever felt Death’s touch? After brushing of his boney hand on your cheek as he took your hand, yes, you can indeed say so. Perhaps others had seen glimpses in dreams or in a terrifying circumstance but...this was so different. Your own non-existence too impossible to even be properly imagined by a mind was now at your front door, knocking with light, gentle taps. If you don't answer, which you can't, he rips the door of its hinges with an ever growing smile. A joke.

“It's funny, I tried doing her job once before but...Death is calling.” He laughs while your comatose body stands still, staring at him with paralysed limbs and half-closed eyes as you lay on the snowy ground at the bottom of the hill. You can see the telltale red of blood on the pearly-white powder but feel no fear. You can't feel anything, really. Static fluctuates in your vision and it feels like you're fading away into bits and pieces, all flowing and burning and flying away. You couldn't decide if it was a deep, red glow, or an ever-brightening blue as the little particles soared into the air like a stream of water. Colours flashing on and off on a negative as they circled you, floating like stars in a faded contrast to the sun. The pale pinkness that followed showed the heart, the light of your soul, it would make anyone squint though you remained motionless. Only white could be seen to your sensitive eyes though feeling was returning to your fingertips. Those same fingers twitching as you raised your arm, the world fading into the same black of an encounter.

“You cannot give up just yet…” Who-? “Frisk! Stay determined!” What? How...how could you do that? You were dead, right? Your mind was already convinced of this conviction and yet your shaking limbs carried you forward, arm still extended, as you crawled onward. You gritted your teeth at the feeling of injuries dragging against frozen ground but didn't stop. A bright glimmer and an option… You could either quit here, or continue on. The choice was obvious as that left arm reached and reached until…!

A shallow breath, hand reaching to your chest to find a beating heart. Breathing getting more and more hasty as colour returned to your face. You could see the puffs of white expelling rapidly from your mouth and your opposite hand went to your face just to be sure this was real. You pinched the skin of your cheek, other hand still clasped around the fabric at your heart, looking down briefly you saw you were still on the mountain, the rope tied firmly around your waist- Hastily untying the knot you reel in the loose strings until the hook is in your hand once more. What happened? You couldn't be sure, perhaps a nightmare from passing-out on this cliff...it was too real to be that simple…

You threw the hook again, pulling with all the strength your hands had before waiting until- the tree was falling again. You pry the hook off as it falls, coming off easily when you pull upwards after waiting, instead of nestling the metal in deeper like before. The tree falls, you're alive, the hook is still in hand. A moment of relief happens as your arms wrap around your waist, hands once more going to your face to tug at the skin. You shift it to fur and brush your hand against it, this is real; this is really real. Wide eyes closed at the chill that brushed at you and fur turned back to skin as your hands once more took the rope in hand. The time to think would be later, for now you had to focus...to stay...stay… A shiver up your spine alerted you to the situation and you focused once more, ignoring the itch at your throats to repeat that voice’s words.

It took a few more hours but, eventually, you reached the top again. Night had fallen once more, a deep contrast to the morning you had started on. One arm resting on another, you continued forwards toward a bridge. Branches littered the ground and you often found yourself tripping in the darkness. Your eyes weren't adjusting properly, mind still too shocked to even comprehend the need. Shiver wracked your body as the wind bit through your coat, though most came from within; the (near?) death experience haunting your thoughts. Your feet slowly approached the bridge, your still-soggy shoes letting in the cold. A kid was standing on it, at the very end, they wore a faded, green sweater and were smiling with warm, red eyes. Your approach was slow but they weren't impatient as they offered their hand, so familiar and yet not.

They closed their eyes and gave a wide smile, you took their hand, the heat of it filling you with the determination to go on. Neither of you spoke a word, though you did thank them in sign language, to which they offered a simple waving-off, showing it was not necessary. They led you through the area, stopping only to throw your chewed toy at a little, white dog which had been following you both. That and taking a chunk from a snowman, who had asked for such, and stopping to eat the leftovers. Several X’s and O’s littered the ground but were faded and did nothing when stepped on. Chara, whose name you had learned from them, took you as far as the bridge, showing the way with calculated steps that made it seem familiar to them.

At the bridge, which turned out to be the same you had seen from below, they gave you a quick hug; hand resting on your cheek as their eyes peered into your own. They gestured to open them and you obeyed, too enamored to even realize your mistake as their touch faded from your skin. They put their forehead to yours in a silent promise as mouthed a simple message.

‘Please, take this burden I carry.’ You held out your hands and they smiled so brightly you mistook them for the shining sun, they seemed apologetic as they joined hands with you once more and closed their eyes. It hit you like a jolt, a bolt of lightening that flew through your sense and numbed a few, buzzing like caffeine in your veins.

‘I'll keep you safe, I promise, just please do this for me…’  
‘Anything, Chara.’ A conversation so silent, lead by only hands and mouthing lips, that would be such an invisible event to onlookers; like the burning at your back that told you such a thing wouldn't be all too improbable. You would still promise, even if crowds and crowds were watching. You knew you were too trusting but...they felt so familiar, their origin on the tip of your tongue and yet appearance a deep contrast to this feeling. Their eyes...perhaps they were different once, a bright blue that drew you into an ocean at each passing glance. Speaking of eyes, your own burned and when they relinquished their hold on you your hands reached up to rub at the annoyance.

It finally stopped a while later, when you looked up they were gone, leaving not even a footprint as proof of their presence; their past ones simply leading up to a disappearance. You weren't sure what came over you but you felt the urge to backtrack a bit. Back to that ice, a deeply reflective surface you felt you'd never be able to return to after crossing; it revealed...red eyes...their eyes. Why? You weren't sure, and although it felt safer to open your eyes you would continue to squint nonetheless. After all, no one but you was allowed to see their eyes.

 

Snow burned cold feet. A warmth at your side and on your hand told you that you were not alone still. Chara would guide you carefully and Gaster would always watch for a threat from a place you would be unaware of. You would never be alone as before, that was assured, it was this that made you brave. The determination to protect your friends and...that little knowing feeling that told you hope was still in the air. So long as it was assured that this warmth and weight would always caress your hand and hold your shoulders in a reassuring grip to add to the loving gesture; you would fight until there was nothing left of you but dust. The red eyes may be gone but...a piece of Chara would always be inside you, just like a piece of you would always be with both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -The blue eyed Chara was actually an idea spawned from the "Mercy" comics. Though I switched it from Frisk's eyes to Chara's.  
> -Frisk does not have red eyes since leaving the underground.  
> -I apologize for the continuing lack of progression but I felt like establishing the character connections between these two was more important, just like last chapter.
> 
> Thanks to:  
> Nightmarechaser  
> For previously commenting and/or leaving kudos!
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Messenger Bag  
> Armor: Wool Coat  
> +Charred Smock  
> +Faded Ribbon  
> +Buttercup  
> +Chewed Toy  
> +Bunny-Cat  
> +Toriel’s Phone  
> +Wing-Dings Translation Guide  
> +Sign-Language Book


	7. The Memories That Pain Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! To make-up for the slow update I wrote another chapter, it's a long one too, the longest yet I think. Though I'll apologize right now for the Naruto-level of flashbacks, I'M SORRY!

The Reason I Run

What would life be like after you went back? It had been so long, they probably wouldn’t expect you were alive. Normally it was just a punishment that got a bit harsher each time but...that was after maybe a week’s disappearance, at most. You were returning to a world you could now recall was cruel and unforgiving in treatment. Isolation once being a common punishment and then becoming the norm; unless they became uninterested in you. What would the structured days be like when they ignored your problems with wakefulness and simply used it as an excuse for an even longer session. Perhaps such things were a bit too morbid to think about right beforehand, it would be better to not get cold feet...

 

Nothing eventful transpired beyond the bridge, which you had returned after sparing a bit to admire the new look of your face. It was like a promise, the way you had grasped their had to carry this for them. You were tasked to keep Chara’s eyes safe, as well as the part of them that had...changed. It did make a question, however, would their eyes be that brilliant blue of your dreams as they should or...would they carry your own? Personally, you wouldn’t wish something so ostracizing on anyone, much less your friend.

Nevertheless, there was nothing you could do at this point. Besides, if they asked you to take on a burden in exchange for one like yours...then perhaps the one you had taken was worse? Only they could be the real judge of that but you couldn’t even begin to fathom what had hurt so much. It almost made your heart ache in sadness as you thought of once golden eyes being filled with black like a spill of oil, light receding in a single moment. Replacing the colors with that beautiful blue transforming into a blood-red coloration only served to make you more morose about the whole situation. Sorrow leaking through a persona would only serve as a bad impression now.

Though thinking about it at this point...the nice woman had said you were in danger, and you would bet anything that it was because you were- looked human. You couldn’t say for sure what you were now but...perhaps changing would actually- No. You had suffered so much from humankind for the markings of difference on your skin and now, did you really have to change again just to be ignored? Conforming had been easy when there was fear involved, not to mention it was a form you had possessed for a long time; making it normal. Normality may have been turned into a glorified disguise but...after all you had suffered for the difference, you just weren’t ready to be used to get used to your (true?) new self, only to have to put on a false face once more.

This reasoning didn’t make much sense, the cons obviously outweighing the pros but...you just weren’t ready for being a demon- alien- mutant- whatever it was, again. You weren’t ready to stare yourself in the mirror and accept that part of you, even if it helped your survival. That woman may have wanted to protect you, but would she if she had known? The same couldn’t be said for the two you had befriended since they both watched and you knew that they had known from the start; you just had that kind of feeling. That woman though...she was like all the others, you had been so blinded by the resemblance to your mother that you had trusted without thought. She only helped you because you looked like an innocent, human child. She had obviously helped others in the past, thought judging by her speech to you they had all left and probably hadn’t made it far; especially since that ribbon and the toy had to have belonged to someone…

Had you looked like some...hybrid, would she have saved you without thought like she had? You were no monster, but you were no human either. You couldn’t even be sure you were something in between as your abilities were always developing, changing, or even disappearing completely. You used to be able to keep yourself invisible while moving or even give off an illusion of little flashes of light while you melted into the shadows; those were quick to dissipate. The constant changes were probably a sign that you were some sort of half-breed, your mother’s never had differed from what you knew. She always brought warmth and seemed to radiate an aura of safety, she could also change her appearance but it was harder for her. Some of her words occasionally came back up in little fragments of lost memories.

“Always remember, my little one, never tell anyone about bonding, people...aren’t like us, they don’t understand things like that.”

“Why don’t they?”

 

“Humans are...different kinds of creatures, they simply can’t understand what cannot be explained; they could never understand the connections we have to those in the past.”

“Monna...I don’t understand.”

“That’s alright, chensay, you don’t need to just yet.”

When I think of the little moments like that...sometimes you wonder why it’s still so hard to accept who you are. Perhaps it’s the lack of memories of those times. Why is it so hard to remember? You weren’t so young to have forgotten already and yet the word you had always called her…

“Wh-Where’s my Monna?” Your own stuttering voice asked, barely able to keep from speaking in your differing tongue.

“You won’t see your mother again.” The curt voice responded.

“But...she can’t just leave me! Monna! Monna!” You were too young to accept her death when they left her charred body behind, pulling me from beneath her and the wreckage. You didn’t remember how the fire had started but the memories of her pushing you out the door of a different building earlier as you both ran from the sound of gunfire would always be fresh in your mind. Permanently inked into your head as a horrid reminder of that day. The day she had you cling to her hand, then wrist as your short legs struggled to keep up, streaking through forests and not daring to stop when night fell. Three days...just three short days and about six or seven hours of sleep under each of your belts before they found you both.

It was obvious that they had set the fire, even if that part was blocked out of your mind. You only remembered waking up to the smell of smoke and coughing through ashes. Her scorched body yet another image you’d never forget as it brought screams from your lips that told them you had survived. Hands tearing you away as you begged her to wake-up in both english and your native language, hysterically asking them why- why were they leaving her behind?

“Say it for me, yes? La-amp. Lamp.”

“I want my Monna…” A slap on the wrists caused you to gasp in pain and look up through teary eyes.

“Listen to me when I speak to you, and don’t use such language! We speak english here and nothing else!” They told me to forget it more times than you can count, though you found yourself writing in it almost nonstop in a desperation to remember as it faded from your mind. All that writing had done some good, it seemed, you could still recall the symbols and writing despite years of leaving it almost completely unused. You weren’t allowed to say it aloud, however, so teaching yourself the word, ‘mother,’ was an easy choice despite the heartbreak; not that it mattered now.

They took the drawings you made too, since you always wrote little letters on the back in the same script. You drew her in all her beauty. The glossy, black hair, sprinkled with a few white and gray hairs of her own; she told you once it was from both age and stress. The violet of her skin and matching ears, adding the brown cloak she almost always wore. For whatever reason she was almost always without human skin when you had seen her, probably to give you a sense of your heritage. It was almost sad how they kept conditioning you and, eventually, you drew her with pale skin that matched the peach you normally saw. That was the moment taller people shared a knowing look and affixed a golden sticker to it. You were immediately drawn to the shining surface and more came as you removed the ears from the top of her head, changing the sclera of her eyes to a paper white, the irises into a deep purple.

Conditioning had always worked differently, as you had learned from other children. Some received the same injections you did but for less of a time, some were hurt, others had...had things taken from them that no one would ever be able to give back. It made you both relieved and sad that it had been so easy for you; just a few shinies and the regular injections. Then again, the regular doses often made you forget more than just your past so maybe- you didn’t want to think about that. They had already taken so much, the, ‘medicine,’ only just starting to wear off, thankfully not causing any sort of withdrawal as it slowly phased out of your system. Half a month had already passed, far longer than all other escapes and just over their next dosage date. A silent chuckle, bitter but present; a new record.

“Hey, buddy.” A voice at your ear, right behind you. Fighting the urge to growl and shift you froze, your hand the only exception as it slide into the bag that lay at your hip. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around, and shake my hand.” You had been too lenient with people as of late, letting hands stay with gentle acceptance, you couldn’t afford to continue with that approach. You left hand instantly locked around the chewed toy knife in a vice-like, reverse grip. You jump forwards, hand still locked on your weapon as your head whips around towards your assailant.

 

‘Monna,’ Unknowingly your lips formed the word, still ever silent in the snowy woods. Your purple hands reminded you of her and it just came on instinct as you gazed at them, eyes already turning focus away from looking forward. The fur was warm and it wasn’t like you would see any of your friends anytime soon. Memories you had discovered whilst traversing the Underground were already swimming through your head in the Vowthen as you remembered… A dream you once had when you were young. Your mother was walking further and further and your little legs just couldn’t keep up (the dream had repeated with your friends as well). You begged her not to go, to not leave you behind again, you couldn’t do this on your own; endure those tests and emotionless faces. Sure, when the information had all been gathered they put you with other children but now you were suddenly realizing it wasn’t so black and white.

It had all gotten so much worse when other children were around you, bruises and marks a common factor; forced smiles a common mask. You suffered separately, each in your own unique brand of torture and then were left to try and interact with people after learning no social skills and having screamed your voice away. You all had nightmares, demons, and everyone knew it...you were told not to make friends, though, it was even actively discouraged. Just another test of obedience, another attempt to keep kids from banding together. So, instead, you simply smiled through tear-filled eyes while refusing to let the water drop as each and every child felt alone in a world of people who would have understood them; every life a silent tragedy as the cycle went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -I decided to call Frisk's and their mother's native language Vowthen, making her mother a Vowthen and their species, Vowa. (Vow-A).  
> -Monna is the Vowthen word for mommy.  
> -Chensay is the Vowthen word for child.  
> -Frisk's mother mainly stayed in her original, non-human form when she was with Frisk.  
> -Sans! Frisk is finally meeting people! (I only decided to include this so it wouldn't be an entire chapter of flashbacks.  
> -So much foreshadowing it shouldn't be legal.  
> -There were many flashbacks and let me know if I should put them in italics, I've always found it annoying to read things like that so I left it out but do tell me if it's hard to tell those apart from the text itself.  
> -"...others had...things taken from them that no one would ever be able to give back." This can be interpreted several ways but nothing graphic will ever be described, I SWEAR. Please tell me if I should change the rating because of this (I added a tag but that's it since there were no archive warnings for this kind of thing).
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Chewed Toy Knife  
> Armor: Wool Coat  
> +Charred Smock  
> +Faded Ribbon  
> +Buttercup  
> +Messenger Bag  
> +Bunny-Cat  
> +Toriel’s Phone  
> +Wing-Dings Translation Guide  
> +Sign-Language Book


	8. The People That Are Like Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to get one more chapter in before the end of the weekend, apologies if it's a bit written out at the end, I was tired and trying to wrap it up. More canon divergence here! Let me know if you like the new spin I'm putting on things, yeah?

The Reason I Run

Your time at the home of the Vowa had been both short and sweet. You still remember the starry skies of nocturnal nights all those years ago. You had spent a good portion of your life there before it all went wrong. You don't remember much, you were still young at the time (about three years mind and body though it had been much longer). Lingering memories of purple giants calling you kethral and holding you in their arms as they rubbed their forehead against your own. You still recall the memories of wings, white magic casted that gave the appearance of angels. They razed the Vowthen cities as they turned from angelic beings into bringers of death.

Your mother was part of one of the only groups to escape. Kethrals picked up, hands holding, now orphaned, chensay as they took them to safety. The white light of the magic still lighting up the city in a beautiful tragedy as the albino, winged ones (identified as a species called Shestiss or, ‘Flame Wraiths’) destroyed your home. Your own purple hands being coaxed into changing by your mother. It was uncomfortable, and still is even after all this time appearing human but you endured. Your mother would later use her own magic to keep you that way with her dying breath, until it ran out and you had to rely on your own (it was too bad it hadn't lasted until you were eighteen in appearance and they let you go). It was only later that you would discover that the Shentiss were the humans all along.

 

“Whoa there kiddo, no need to get like that.” A skeleton. A skeleton staring you down with a grin on his face, a red sort of cushion taped to one hand as he put his hands up in a mock surrender. You remain wary, you didn’t know who he was, didn’t know if you could trust monsters like you had with her. He was an adult and that already made him dangerous, you had seen a man like him once before, in fact. A joking scientist that applied bandaids over injections covered in little pictures of heroes and royalty. He told little puns and could make anyone laugh, no matter how hard they were crying; you would know. It had been a sad day when he, “left,” the event only made you sad, wishing for the comfort of the murkiness the drugs brought when over and over they tore the memory of the sad day children mourned his death.

“Just trying to make an impression, you looked quite _bone_ ly.” It would have made you laugh, once, now it only served as a reminder to despair. You were one of the unlucky few to witness the entrance of guards, arms digging into his side as they clamped a hand round his mouth and dragged him away. It was yet another harsh remembrance of the reason some returned of their own will, it wasn’t withdrawal but the return of the horrors they allowed you to forget. It was how they controlled you at all times, breaking you down encouraged a stay even more since when you could recall you it made you gag, it made you horrified, and it made you, more than anything, want to forget.

“Heh heh, the name’s Sans, you’re a human right?” Your jaw clenched, “That’s hilarious.” You remained guarded but relaxed your posture from it’s previous position, taking your hands off the piece of wood in your bag as you took the offered hand. A sound followed that left you confused. “The old whoopie cushion in the hand trick, heh heh.” You cocked your head, you weren’t sure why it was funny or what he had just referred to. He didn’t comment, continuing his introduction.

“I’m actually supposed to be on guard for humans right now, I must’a missed you earlier. I’ve been working myself down to the _bone.”_ The wariness increased but the jokes were really confusing you, were you supposed to be threatened or…? “Anyways, my brother, Papyrus, he’s a human-hunting fanatic, but he’s still putting out a fire in Waterfall…”

“Sans!”

“Oh, that’s him now, quick, behind that conveniently shaped tree!” It wasn’t very convenient at all, really. The branching tree almost completely matched your shape, from the front. You stood behind it, sweat rolling down your face as you, quite literally, stared the taller skeleton in eyes. “‘Sup, bro?”

“You know what is up, brother!” He stomped in indignation as Sans chuckled, “It’s been 15 days and you. Still. Have. Not. Recalibrated. Your. Puzzles.” He seemed completely outraged while Sans was simply shrugging off the blatant criticism. You were fairly relieved that it seemed, despite the emotion and yelling, to be said in a rather playful manner.

“I, the great Papyrus, reminded you of this 7 days ago! What have you even been doing?”

“Staring at this tree, it’s pretty cool, right?” Sans, why?!

“I don’t have time for that! What if a human comes through?!”

“They’d have to be pretty _skull_ ful to get past all your traps, bro.” _**BADUM, CRASH!**_ Where the heck did that drum noise come from?!

“Agh! I cannot remain vigilant if I have to shield my ears from this!”

“Come’on, bro, _tibia_ honest, you’ve already been working yourself, down to the _bone.” **BADUM, CRASH!**_ You were seriously concerned at this point.

“I must be the one, I have to be the one! I will capture a human, so I, the great Papyrus, shall finally get the recognition I deserve!” His hand was on his chest as he struck a pose, obviously filled with self-confidence, “I will be popular, bathed in a shower of kisses each day, people. Will. Want. To be. My. Friend!”

“Maybe this tree will help you.” Sans, come on! You were glaring at him now.

“Sans! Have you really spent your whole day staring at a tree?! You get lazier and lazier every day, put a little more back- _bone_ into your work! Nyehehehehehehehe!” He started to walk away and with one last shout of, “Heh!” He was gone, moving straight to the woods across the bridge.

“You can come out now, kid.” You did, a bit unused to not being called by the name, ‘chensay,’ since they only ever called you by a few select names at the facility. Those names being your ID number, some sort of insult, or some sort of given nickname (they usually referenced appearance, yours being ‘Gold’ before subsequently changing to, ‘Kuroi,’ by one of the doctors). “Better get going, he’ll be back by nightfall so if you stay...you’ll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes.” He winked and you nodded, sending him a quick message of annoyance with your hands first.

“Hey, he could totally see you, why do you think I kept talking about the tree? Anyway, I’ll trust you not to make a mess of the place.” Was he referring to your treatment of the monsters? You hadn’t seen much since you had been so focused on Chara, though you do recall removing a picture, small dog, and a candy cane from a deer. Not to mention leaving a list of jokes next to a snowflake-looking monster at Chara’s insistence and picking up a wrapper with a little encouragement written on it. Stopping to pet a few dogs, as well as watching one’s neck grow until it woke up and ran off (incidentally there were several long-necked dog statues and a sleeping dog on the ground next to them later on the path). Even taking a moment to write out a little note to a fellow whose hate you thought was really cool and another one with a little heart on it for a guy that seemed rather alone since he reminded you of the sleeping bug in the ruins.

The paper coming directly from the unneeded pages of the book (ripping them out had made you wince but Chara had reminded you it was for a good cause as they handed you a green brush they had on them). It had become a sort of unspoken tradition for you to do these things and, thankfully, with Chara’s help it had been a much more involved process. It made you happy to do these things and this feeling filled you with determination as you crossed the long, familiar chasm. A sign greeted you, it read, ‘Welcome to Snowdin.’ You walked into town with caution, it was early in the morning and not many people were up considering it was the crack of dawn (it was no wonder Sans looked so tired). The shop, as well as many of the buildings, were closed.

A tree marked the middle, presents shining under the sun with glittering wrappers and nametags. A polar bear sat in front of the decorated pine and welcomed you, describing the reasoning behind the tree as he wrapped gifts in colored paper. He asked your name so you wrote it down for him, he took it with a smile and you returned it as you walked northwards. There was a cliff near the water and- RING! RING! You picked up the phone and a shrill voice called.

“Hello? I’m looking for G- Oh! Is this the wrong number?” You were surprised as an equally cheery tune started to accompany what could only be known as, ‘The Wrong Number Song.’

“Oh, it’s the wrong number song!  
The wrong number song!  
We’re very very sorry that we got it wrong!  
Oh, it’s the wrong number song!  
The wrong number song!  
We’re very very sorry that we got it wrong!”

A telltale click told you they had hung-up immediately after. You stowed away the phone, back into your bag it goes! Turning your head, you saw a wolf stretching as another one shook hands with him. The lighter one began picking up ice off a conveyor belt and chucking it into the sea as the other walked off. You walk over to the fence nearby and wave to the new wolf, who pauses after throwing a block and waves back with a toothy grin. You smile back, mistakenly showing your own fangs as you open your mouth wide in a joy-filled expression, he doesn’t question it, only seeming happy to have been noticed.

You wander back into town and find the bear has taken a quick break, a new present lies under the tree, it’s labeled, ‘Frisk,’ and is a bright yellow like your sweater. It brings yet another smile to your face as you walk past and into a bar called, ‘Grillby’s.’ A man completely made of fire is cleaning a glass within the empty building, briefly looking up at you before adjusting his glasses and returning to the cup. You correct yourself, near empty building, as you notice Sans is sleeping at the bar and a large dog is sitting with a smaller one, both of them playing cards (seemingly against themselves despite sitting together, they were both losing). You wave and the larger one makes a face, the smaller one giving a slight ‘Yip!’ to accompany it.

You count the change in your pocket, setting it on the bar in a silent question. Fries replace it a few minutes later, seven coins left in your pocket. Sans yawns and wakes up as you eat.

“Hey kiddo, didn’t expect to see you here, lemme ask you a quick question.” The room seems filled with frozen air after that remark, tension growing until it could be cut with a knife, “Have you ever heard of a talking flower?” There’s only one thing to do, you nod, letting paint coat your brush as you sketched out a picture of a yellow flower with a face.

“Huh, I was talking about echo flowers, who’s that?” He doesn’t seem all too surprised.

‘Flowey.’ You forget yourself and start spelling out the name in Sign-Language before pausing, picking up your brush to write it out; he stops you. You take it as a sign he understands. ‘I met him earlier, what is an…” You stop to think of the sign before continuing, ‘“Echo Flower?”’

“Repeats what’s said over and over, I figured someone was using it to mess with Papyrus since he’s been saying he’s heard someone whisper encouragement to him.” He stops and thinks before his gaze seems to darken. Anger swells around him as he mutters to himself, something about thinking he was done with someone. He thanks you, quickly firing off another pun as he tells Grillby to, ‘put it on his tab,’ and leaves. You put your hands to your mouth as you remember his shaking fists and wonder if perhaps it was something you said.

 

Flame wraiths, Shentiss, humans. They were all one in the same. Their wizards stole the Earth from you long ago, forcing the abandonment of your entire civilisation in the wake of their insanely strong, magical power. Your people could change forms, see in darkness, and occasionally turn completely invisible but it was all very tiring. This was completely unlike the humans, who could wield fire, erect barriers, cast curses, and destroy everything in a matter of moments. They constructed new cities atop the ruins of yours in just a short while, forcing the Vowthens into hiding, other fleeing the planet entirely of they could manage. You were the only Vowa at the facility, you knew this, and it was for good reason.

For the most part, they were put on the category of monsters, just like all the others, and hunted down, most leaving in order to flee to off-planet places where humans had yet to reach despite all their advancement. This being a time before the Great War (which had been written out of human history), when species were merely hunted to extinction. The Vowa built cities in the stars. You still didn't know why your monna had stuck around, choosing to conform to humanity rather than flee and be free to express her own culture. Humans didn't understand their ways, their bonds, they understood nothing!

Perhaps she had believed there was a chance for peace, the two species bridged together by her own halfling child. You didn't blame her for hoping but...you still feel sadness at the thought that she may have cared more about making peace and staying on the planet urta died on rather than protecting you. After all, where had you ended up besides lost in old memories of places you wish you were now where you wouldn't have to feel self-conscious nor the itch of your skin at staying disguised so long and stuck in a place that only considered you an object of new discoveries? You could scarcely remember your own culture, the one she had never wanted you to forget, and it was her fault. She left behind the new Vowa in favor of a lost cause, forsaking her heritage and her own child so she could sit by her husband’s grave, the grave of a person from a race of murderers.

You weren't really angry, at least not at her, you just felt so betrayed. You didn't want to go back, you didn't want to just take the cruelty that's been given to you. What else could you do though? It had been the only choice you were ever given. You wanted to blame someone other than yourself for once, for not trying hard enough to find a new path. You wanted to forget the pain and, instead, be surrounded by people who would love and accept you, where you didn't have to hide. Vowa had always been protective of their young so you would have grown up happily with them, even if your monna had still perished. Why hadn't she just taken a moment to think of you? You supposed you’d never know, just like you'd never see those stars again once you went back. The stars you had always wanted to visit to see the people just like you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -'Kethra,' means kit.  
> -'Shentiss,' means, 'Fire Wraiths,' it is the Vowthen word for humans.  
> -'Urta,' means daddy.  
> -The, "cities in the stars," is a reference to Outertale.  
> -The, "angels," reference the prophecy of the Delta Ruin.  
> -The "I totally knew he could see you," from Sans, is a reference to an Undertale web-comic about a child named, 'Bacon.'  
> -The time period is iffy but I'd say that the humans, by destroying the Vowthen cities, set the world back by centuries.  
> -Frisk's nickname depended on their eye color, going from, 'Gold,' to, 'Kuroi,' (black in Japanese).  
> -Boxes will not be referenced but random instrumental noises are always fair game!  
> -The Wrong Number Song!  
> -Frisk is half-human and their mother stayed behind when the others left (which is why none are seen underground).  
> -Vowthens are native to Earth, some monsters are not. When space traveling technology was destroyed some were trapped on Earth and because there was nothing more to do, they were forced underground and treated like- well, monsters. (That's the direction I'm going in, I haven't explained why some monster/alien children are kept in the Facility but I will!)
> 
> Thanks to:  
> ThatOneNightmare  
> For previously commenting and/or leaving kudos!
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Chewed Toy Knife (It's almost useless but it makes you feel safe)  
> Armor: Wool Coat (A tannish color, it's soft to the touch)  
> +Faded Ribbon (Holding a flower in a soft, like silk, grasp)  
> +Buttercup (Still strong)  
> +Messenger Bag (A reliable, light blue bag)  
> +Bunny-Cat (You sometimes call them, 'Little Buttons')  
> +Toriel’s Phone (The tune from the song is still stuck in your head...)  
> +Wing-Dings Translation Guide (You barely need it anymore)  
> +Sign-Language Book (Some pages are missing)  
> +New Paintbrush (Chara gave it to you)  
> +Drawing (It's labeled, 'Flowey')


	9. The Ones That Hurt Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun, dun, another one bites the dust. Heh heh, I hate myself.

The Reason I Run

Your breakdown didn’t last long, mind waking from its lucid state to climb out of memories and back into the world you despised seeing almost as much as the past. Sometimes your reality was just so unbearable… What had woke you was the oncoming voices, one cheery and excited, the other chastising and cold. So...they had finally come for you? It’s about time. Chara squeezed your arm in a calming gesture before disappearing from view and, along with Gaster, returned to where they had come from.

 _“Come on!”_ She whined, “Aren’t you excited, Gerchland? Gold’s back!”  
“You should know by now, Merryweather, I’m never excited.” He replied, exasperated, “Besides, it’s Kuroi now, isn’t it?”  
_“Who_ cares?!” She responds, stretching out the first word in complaint, “We’ve been looking for _so_ long! I missed old O’ Eight-six!” Here we go again...

 

After Sans had left, you found yourself feeling you had overstayed your welcome, even while sitting in the open bar. So, giving a nod of thanks that is given in return, you exit the building and journey farther into Snowdin. The inn and store are still closed and the sun has scarcely moved, as if time itself had briefly stopped. The confusion remained just as brief, your feet moving and taking you further into the snowy town, the wind blowing you forward just a bit.

_**Step. Step. Step.** She's here again, she's here to take you back. You won't go back to that room, not with her, never with her. You can't go back, you just can't. She won't take you again! You'll fight and fight with all your dormant strength to escape her! Yet these thoughts all leave as her approach seems to quicken and you quake with fear.  
“Good morning, Kuroi.” She pauses, smiling with painted lips, perfectly polished nails painted a blood-red coming to her face as she brushes it in thought, “Aww, you're trembling.” She sounds amused, false sympathy a dominant factors as it blurs together with a cutesy, almost ditzy, tone._

_“Don't worry,” Her false sweetness fades into nothing more than pure pleasure as a terrifying grin claims her face, filling her expression with a smirk that could only be described as evil, “We’ll fix that.”_

The snap out of this insanity called your memories occurs just a moment later when you bump into someone, knocking them over. You help them, pushing on their back until they're up once more.

“Thanks! Hey, you're a kid too! I can tell by your striped shirt.” You look down at your shirt and then to his and smile, “Man, Undyne is so cool! Have you ever heard of her?” You shake your head and he looks shocked, you gesture for him to continue.

“She's my hero! Captain of the Royal Guard!” You raise her head in awe and you both become rather excited. “Well, I'm off to go see her in action, don't tell my parents though!” You nod and he's off in another moment, racing on two legs with no arms to hold his little dinosaur body back as he leans his head forward and takes off. You find yourself liking him almost instantly as nostalgia from a forgotten memory lifts your heart.

The sound of snow is muffling your steps in a way that hallway never had. Nothing but whitewashed walls, however, was serving as too much of a remainder. Though, after that bee buzzed in your ear you were quick to snap out of it. Unfortunately, it seems the path would be a bit limited as you approached the edge of town, past an oddly festive house. The snow blew into your face as a wind as strong as the one in the purple area in the opposite direction, keeping you from progressing. Still, seeing such a wind guarding this town with a graceful fury filled you with _determination._ That thought in mind, you still needed to get forward… How though?

The is piercing through your coat but there's no other option than to go forward, steeling yourself, you move forward, grimacing as pain laced your arm and other places where cuts lingered. Such pain made you thankful you weren't doing this a week ago, when the burns were still staying strong in their creation of blisters; you still had white scars in many places. With no other option, you take out the burnt smock from the fight with the goat lady, it was ridden with holes and still smelled of ashes but you wrapped it around your face regardless. The smell caused tears to prickle in your eyes but you endured, closing your eyes as you continued on. The path was unfortunately long but you could tell you were nearing the end when you saw-

“Who are you?! Are you a human?!” Papyrus. He was standing in the chilling winds, if you said no he probably wouldn't be able to tell but...Sans was whispered something to him before walking past me and winking. Sans, why?!

“Human, I, the great Papyrus shall capture you and become part of the Royal Guard!” Here we go again, color already fading from the battlegrounds. Snow still burning your barely open eyes as you stand before the tall, cape-wearing skeleton, you shiver in both fright and cold.

“Your are smart, human, to have avoided all my traps and resist the temptation of my delicious spaghetti but you will not get past me!” Does he mean that half-frozen bowl I had passed awhile back? There was a broken...thing, on the ground next to it if I recall. I go to put my hand in the bag and pull the wooden plaything from its confines but something makes me hesitate. A hand on my arm, I swear I can feel it once before it's gone, the burn in my eyes ceases as a tingle spreads from the ghostly touch and throughout my body that sends a single message, ‘No.’ I grit my teeth and take my hand from the bag, empty-handed, the bag falls to the ground and I stand with nothing in hand except the pink heart I know of as my soul. The hand brushes me again and I turn, it’s Chara again.

‘I told you I'd help you.’ They wink, a smug look on their face and eyes (a familiar black sclera that told me they were my own) filled with confidence, ‘Just follow my lead!’ Their hand smacks their chest in a gesture of said emotion; it was similar to what Papyrus had done earlier.

‘Thank you, partner.’ Their- er, my eyes sparkle at this as they tell me to get ready, taking my hand. Papyrus seems to say a few things, which you don't really pay attention to as I prepare myself for the encounter. The first attack is startling, blue bones popping from the ground, opaque and standing tall. When you attempt to avoid them you feel a startling shock that makes your chest ache. Chara is quick to put one hand to the ribbons your hair as they say,  
‘Don't move when it's blue.’ You take the advice, brushing your hand against the ribbon as well as you stand impossibly still. It passes through without harm but it's after that you feel a pull at your chest, soul distorting as it flickers through a few different colors before sticking with one; blue.

You brush it off as the next attack comes, regular white telling you to move and move _fast._ Your legs don't move and you panic, jumping an impossible height that leaves both you and your partner impressed. A trade-off, it seemed. Zero mobility when it comes to dodging but a vastly improved jump that felt absolutely amazing as you flew off the ground, barely touching it again as you kept it up. A trap! Bones at the top that chip at your soul with a fierce touch, warning you to watch both top and bottom before jumping so carelessly. Touching, even with your arms, is painful and grants a nasty mark to your soul, meaning even brushing against the magical attacks with your body will bring the battle even closer to a conclusion; an ending in loss.

You didn’t exactly want to think about what would happen if you lost. Instead of determination, a desperation pulled at your and lit it with a fire of self-preservation as you grew more and more tired. Your eyes were blurring, burning with the same vengeance that had ended once Chara’s presence had been noted. Why now? It was harder to see as the same of red their eyes covered the whole area with a hazy air that felt colder and colder as said sensation spread through your veins. Speaking of Chara, they were now pulling at your sleeve in panic, you ignored it as you forced an uncooperative hand into your bag. Their hands were pulling at yours, along with something else from within the bag. You pull it free, a wild smile coming to your lips. Tan skin starting to fade into purple spots in several places; the rest becoming a much paler color.

The smile grew ever larger, eyes opening to show red irises as the wide grin claim your face. The weapon only fed the fire with its wood, fake blade making you crave the real metal; you need to make something bleed.  
‘No!’ Chara tugged harder as you raised it, frantically mouthing, ‘Not again! Not again! You can be strong, Frisk! Please!’ You put all your strength into flinging their body backwards and into a pile of snow as their appearance sputters and fades; glitching like a virus. Bloodlust distracts you, however, old urges to kill and make aggressors suffer were leaping back out like all the threats never acted on were suddenly screaming in one big conglomeration from being held back all those years. The rational part of you was screaming that it wasn’t his fault. You didn’t care. You wanted to cut something up, this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Blade held in the same grip as before, it was familiar, oh so familiar, as it lay in your hands. You readied your stance, resuming the battle, which seemed to have frozen in all the inner conflict. Pale skin, red eyes, purple spots, and a bright, beaming smile. You were a _true **monster**_ now; it was time to act like one.

 

“O’ Eight-six.” He was looking down at you from the snow, light-blue hair still the color of ice and messy as always. The brown roots were showing, his glasses hiding his calculating, green eyes with glare from the light of the truck. “How nice of you to come back on your own.”

“Did’jya get sick of your new place? You were gone for so long!” She did the same, hands on her knees as she bent over. Bright, blonde hair spilling out of a pink scrunchie, contacts hiding brown eyes with an equally pink tint that also matched her nails. Your tired eyes closed like an animal’s might when it knew death was approaching. Their words slurred together, hers still loud as ever, his curt and to the point. A needle in your arm told you it was finally time give in, she sounded disappointed you were falling asleep so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Frisk's number is 086, but I didn't want it mispronounced in the way I didn't want so I wrote it in text.  
> -Flashback within the text.  
> -Papyrus fight!  
> -Frisk calls Chara partner and it's too cute.  
> -Chara said, 'Not again.' Hmm...  
> -The bloodlust has come, Chara is scared, Frisk is freaking out.  
> -Chara and Gaster left because Frisk asked them to, this was their last day together.  
> -That place Chara and Gaster disappeared to? The same place people go when they fall into the Core.  
> -Merryweather and Gerchland are both staff-members of the Facility.  
> -Actually...this IS an Undertale fic...I won't promise anything.
> 
> Thanks to:  
> Shippo704 and an anonymous person  
> For previously commenting and/or leaving kudos!
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Chewed Toy Knife (Why can't it be sharper?)  
> Armor: Charred Smock (Good enough, it smells like remains)  
> +Faded Ribbon (Pointless)  
> +Buttercup (Reminds you of a certain flower)  
> +Messenger Bag (Heavy)  
> +Bunny-Cat (Useless)  
> +Toriel’s Phone (Who do you even have to call?)  
> +Wing-Dings Translation Guide (Might as well chuck it...)  
> +Sign-Language Book (Ripped)  
> +New Paintbrush (It's yours)  
> +Drawing (Your drawing)


	10. The Person That Protects Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but the cliffhanger intensifies. I wrote an entire chapter of flashbacks again. I got really into the psychology of this one, too... To be fair though, I did write a whole chapter in one day... It may take a little while to think of where exactly I'm going to go with the next one though so, it's time for characterization and introductions. I purposely wrote this in a repetitive style to show the constants and specific feelings between characters so I hope it doesn't become too tedious to read (I removed the italics over the entire chapter and added dates for your convenience).

The Reason I Run

Familiar in a bad way. Such a feeling hadn’t come in a while (apart from the flashbacks and terrifying moments of remembrance when a trigger came). Merryweather was looking at you with pitying eyes as she secured the collar to your neck; you didn’t know why but it made you feel the somberness dripping through both of your souls. You barely knew her, that’s what you told yourself, yet you knew this to be a lie. Still, you were happy that you weren’t outside anymore… Something about her reminded you that the sky was absolutely terrifying.

  


_**Six years before the escape**_  
“Focus, Kuroi.” His tone was like ice, all the former emotion gone as he sat you down on the floor of a room, “This is your blood, focus, and change.” You wanted to shake your head, to never see the deep purple that has haunted you for months since it appeared and you willed it away. You were tired, face flushed and eyes ringed with dark circles; eyes red and itching with imaginary dust each time you yawned.  
‘I can’t…’

“Do it, creature.” You heart dropped as his icy eyes settled on your body and gazed at you with cold indifference. His green eyes were even more bright than yesterday, more blue than Merryweather’s too… You were worried for him, he had been so different since they dragged him away; perhaps he really was dead like all the other kids had said. He used to read you stories and tell you tales of adventures and the outside world. It was so captivating when he weaved such legends of creatures you’d never see but he swore were real. When he was taken, the escapes had started for you and become even more frequent for others (though you were sure you still recalled someone taking your hand when you could barely even speak English and leading you somewhere).

_**“Change.”**_ It was a harsh tone and you flinched, the slap coming soon after and sounding throughout the lab. Merryweather was there in a moment, holding back his hand from shocking you to accompany the action. She kept him restrained until he was calm, eyes flashing with a yellowish tint for a moment before returning to aquamarine. She met your gaze with her own eyes, comforting yellow-brown irises without a speck of green nor blue; before enveloping you in a hug and carrying you elsewhere.

-  


_**Two years before the escape.**_  
A snarl erupts from your lips as she draws near, heels click-clacking on the metallic floors, changing from the sound of marble underfoot to a new brand of footstep. A pink pump comes into sight, your head jerked upwards as her nails dig into your chin. You can see her satisfied grin as you stare in one direction, eyes unmoving and body without purpose; slack in its position on the floor. Light flows in behind her, giving her a halo of false promise as she stands over you like a god. Your own dead eyes are staring into bright-green ones, half-lidded and tired as they simply continue looking forwards. You feel crustiness on your eyelids, filth coating your body despite the lack of dirt as you breath in the smell of your own breath and dried sweat.  
You don't care about escape, about the open door right behind her. You don't care much for looking around or pleading for her to stop. You feel hollow after all these...weeks? Months? Who knows? You had long since stopped scratching marks on the walls after the, ‘nail incident.’ Not that you had the energy to do it now, remaining motionless besides a shallow breath; choked from the scratches at the collar on your throat.

“Kuroi.” You close your eyes as exhaustion overwhelms you, she slaps you and they open slowly. “I have a job for you, pet.” Another job? She seems to see the question in your eyes but doesn't respond, pulling you upwards by your hair (it didn't hurt anymore but she didn't like it when the strands tore).  
“If you're good...I'll take you for a walk, okay?” Sugar sweet, honeyed voice that always met with hidden intent. Life was cruel, and so was she; this is all you had. The tears you may have cried once are all dried-up, there was nothing left for you to give, anymore.

-  


_**Eighteen months before the escape.**_  
What is this? The light? It's beautiful. You've missed the sun, and especially the moon’s bright glow. She holds you by the leash, once an embarrassing reminder and method of keeping you tame; now it was just for show. Where did you even have to run to, and, if you did, wouldn't the same thing happening now simply play on repeat like it always has? Your skin crawls as light touches it, just another way of the world telling you that you were not meant for this. You don't like this place. You want to go back inside, where everything is constant, even pain is better because it's expected. Nothing is predictable outside.

Your breath catches, the feeling traveling up as a wrack of shivers that stay internalised. On the outside, you're still composed and you still look numb and in control but on the inside. She gives a gentle tug and you come to a stop. The woman steps in front of you, repeating the motion of holding your chin as she meets your eyes. Pulling a pill out of her little, orange bottle in a swift motion, it's pushed against your lips and down your throats in a mere moment.  
“You are a strong creature, Kuroi, you were never meant to be scared.”  
‘I'm sorry.’ It's the only response you're allowed to give, mouthed out as you suspect that even if you had a voice it would be broken into whispered fragments.

“We’ll go back soon, I promise, just do me a favor and walk to that fence, okay?” It's a comforting tone that you had grown used to after your submission. You break a little, snapping your head back and forth with frantic eyes. It's so far. She lets go and you walk with cautious steps that make no sound. Just get to the fence, the tall, metal chain-link, it's right there, just go. Go on, keep walking. You're fine. Your fingers reach and reach, not willing to go any further now that you're so close, stretching your arm as far as it goes. A single finger taps the metal and you race back, kicking up grass in a frantic struggle to escape this openness that terrifies you more than anything; there's too much.

She takes your hand this time, matching your sprint as you return. She looks proud when you're finally back inside.

-  


_**Six months before the escape.**_  
She's being oddly kind recently. You're sitting on the couch and still reeling over it. The events of today have been...strange, at best. It had all started when you awoke feeling tired, the world muddled by unfocused eyes and a pounding head. She had taken you out in the snow, thankfully in the darkness, it was still just as nerve wracking. Now you were feeling the effects of that stress, those cold breaths, that white powder that you felt you could relate to. Stuck in one place unless moved by someone else’s will, cold both inside and out, always shifting and being shaped into something by someone else's hands or feet. She looked worried when she saw you laying there, no will to move from the cold floor that soothed a fiery forehead and body.

She had picked you up with gentle hands and given you a concerned and pitying look that you had only ever seen on her assistants or maids. It looked like it didn't belong on her face but you trusted her, as always. She would always be a constant in your life, even if she had been acting oddly for awhile now you were, at least, glad it hadn't all happened at once. She put you in a bed, a **real** bed, and put her hand on your forehead; not even shaking it off when you leaned into the touch. Touch was so rare when you were who you were that savoring it was a common practice for you.

Your mind strayed, leaving you wondering how long it had been since this change had started. How long had it been since she became your keeper? Since you had last seen the other children? Since you had become so numb? It was so gradual, days blurring by over and over again, that you didn't recall any particular date or memory. A cloth on your forehead soothed this mind-fire as a needle went into your arm, adding to the many track marks. Your chest felt less painful after that, enough for you to sleep as you had only just realised she was asking. Sleep came as her hand brushed your hair from your face.

-

_**Three weeks before the escape.**_  
After that sick day you didn't return to your cell, sleeping in her bed becoming a regular theme as, sometimes, you woke up next to her. She would play with your hair and teach you the newer words you needed, training having long since moved indoors after a certain episode. It seemed to cause her great discomfort when you were pained, she avoided it at all costs now. You still didn't understand but were happy she had started wearing less and less perfume, a comforting scent leaking through that seemed to be natural. It calmed you, your skin turning purple on impulse and sometimes other shades in a content fashion. You tended to get more sleep as well.

Occasionally she would leave the room if she was keeping you from sleep. Talking loudly on the phone as she shouted at a man named, ‘Gerchland.’ Eavesdropping too a lot of energy but sometimes you dragged yourself out to do it, under the pretence of waiting for her to say goodnight. A ritual had already established itself, her giving you a sign of comfort like a hug or a kiss on the forehead; it was pleasant and you enjoyed it. She didn't make you go outside too long but it had now become a regular occurrence, ‘Just a half-hour,’ or ‘Just touch that tree,’ each common phrases.

You didn't like it but you trusted her. You would always trust her. She knew this every night she spent petting your head through a nightmare, the creatures once wearing her face as they hurt you becoming green-eyed demons. Her eyes weren't green anymore, they were just like yours before, a pleasant gold that warmed your soul. Yet another gradual change that you feared wouldn't last; when you pointed it out she started wearing contacts in the office. Why was she hiding it? Did it have something to do with those bottles of blue liquid she used to swallow by the hour that you now scarcely saw? Maybe… A purr broke from your throats and you flushed. It had been a long time since you'd made a sound like that. She giggled, continuing her gentle pats and seemed words of praise. Now wasn't the time to complain, really.

-  


_**One hour before the escape.**_  
It was like a scene from a novel; a cliche. She had left the door open, coming back an hour later to still find you there seemed to break her heart even more. She told you to go, to run, hide, to **live.** She frantically explained so many things it was confusing. How she didn't want this, how much it hurt to see you like this, how much she needed you to go back so you could both change. You didn't know what to do. She pressed a bottle into your hands, the orange one, its full and barely makes any noise when it shakes because of this.

“Gold, please, find someone to teach you how to live again.” Water is dripping from her eyes, “You're just too kind and trusting for your own good, kid.”  
‘I'm sorry.’ Her voice is even more strained in response.  
“I'm giving you this opportunity now, go, go and never come back; I'll do my best to make sure you aren't found again.” You want to ask the what-if’s plaguing your mind but she's already hugged you, drawing you in with a natural scent so unlike the harsh perfumes she once wore. She smells...familiar, just like your mother.  
“Shentiss gahoung rosdansa, chensay.”  
(May humans never find you, child.)

She's a Vowthen too. You don't remember the name of your kind or but the language, even after all the conditioning, could never leave you. It snaps you again, breaking you from your catatonic state as you feel like you've woken up for the first **real** time in forever.  
‘Yaze?’  
(Why?)

“Chergiss corspey, rosdanshar getroh demonn kethral, respon, Gorud. Choraka streru yasporstastiss.”  
(I finally know what it's like to care for something more than myself...I'm sorry, Gold, it took me so long, but you were so brave while I cowered.)

“Cheprt.”  
(Go.)

That's when your latest escape began. Forgotten in the swath of cotton balls and sterile smells as you ran. The pills, you took them until you forgot to anymore, the last of the medication once given via injections to make you forget. The bottle is now empty, lying open in the snowy woods. Her last wish was to make you forget her torment, not for her but for you. Merryweather...you would always thank her for giving you a chance to live again.

 

Her pink contacts were gone, gold eyes looking back at me, black sclera, matching your own, peering back at you. A flood of memories, so painful and yet so wonderful. You want her to stay so you reach out, she takes your hand into hers and squeezes, as if chastising you for coming back. Perhaps she thinks you missed her, you do now that you remember her absence. You depend on her just like you do with your friends now. You need her; you had just forgotten. She looks at you with eyes full of sorrow as she apologises over and over again in Vowthen; about how that was your last chance and the only thing she could do was hurt me again.  
‘Chergiss ru corspey.’  
(I still care for you)

She cried so many tears for you, so sorry for breaking her promises, so sorry she would have to repeat history to keep you safe from him. So sorry she let him get so horribly broken. You wouldn’t blame her for what she had to do, you could never hate her; not anymore. After all, she was all you had left to hold onto in order to keep living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note: the first flashback to her stepping down the halls was five years before the escape).
> 
> Timeline:  
> Failed training with Gerchland- 6 years before Underground  
> Given to Merryweather- 5 years before Underground  
> First flashback in chapter- 3 years before Underground  
> Second flashback- 1.5 years before Underground  
> Third flashback- 0.5 years before Underground  
> Fourth flashback- 3 weeks before Underground  
> Final flashback- about 2-3 hours before Underground
> 
> Miss it?  
> -Merryweather is a pure-blooded Vowthen  
> -Merryweather’s actions are largely controlled by the serum so when she stopped taking it her eyes became normal.  
> -Vowthen phrases are complete giberish so any relations to real languages is purely coincidental (though it would be pretty cool).  
> -Phrases:  
> “Shentiss gahoung rosdansa, chensay.” (May humans never find you, child.)  
> ‘Yaze?’ (Why?)  
> “Chergiss corspey, rosdanshar getroh demonn kethral, respon, Gorud. Choraka streru yasporstastiss.” (I finally know what it's like to care for something more than myself...I'm sorry, Gold, it took me so long, but you were so brave while I cowered.)  
> “Cheprt.” (Go.)  
> ‘Chergiss ru corspey.’ (I still care for you)


	11. The Sanctuary That She Once Made For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I just finished writing chapter twelve and then realized I hadn't posted this yet! Oopsie...

The Reason I Run

She was going to ask, she was going to keep you safe like before. You tell yourself this as you lay in your old room, trapped in memories that kept you feverish in fright as you faded from dreams to reality in an endless cold sweat. You wanted her to come back. You wanted all this to just end. You wished you'd never gone outside again- no. Maybe the world beyond walls and constants is scary but...you were happy you'd met everyone you did in that place. It was so perfect, friendly people, no Facility, walls that covered even the sky; your very definition of safe. It was a good time for you and...now? You're giving back to that place and it's people for giving you such good hospitality; even if everyone raced each other to kill you for your soul. Not that it would have helped...halflings probably only count for just that, half, as per the usual...

 

“Human?” The moment of frozen time had passed as the world seemed to resume at last. Your expression was crazed and Papyrus looked apprehensive about it. No matter. This would be simple and easy. Charging forward with a resounding leap, you clear the attacks easily as they come and go. The knife in hand makes you feel strong, enough to finally feel no fear. Chara’s ‘curse’ was your blessing as it granted you endless power with the red glow of your their eyes. He was in front of you, it would be so easy to just-

_“Gold! It's so good to see you again! Come back for more of **my** amazing stories?”_

You slow, feet coming to a stop on the snow as a memory comes to you-

_You give a sharp nod and he looks thrilled, letting imagination take you both to new heights as descriptions get more and more exciting._

-of a person. A person you know.

_“Don't forget about what I told you! Please, Gold! Never forget...no matter what!”_

The person they took-

_Ice-blue hair and warm, yellow eyes that both unnerve and comfort. Roots of brown scarcely showing, he'll dye it again soon._

-him.

_“Hi! My name is Arthur Gerchland, I'll be your teacher for Creative Writing.” He smiles, beaming in pride, “Call me, Arty!”_

They took him, didn't they? Arty...the one that taught you to dream...when he came back-

_“You will address me **respectfully, Kuroi.”**_

You lost him; everyone did. Boney arms wrap around your frame and your eyes come back into focus after being glazed in remembrance. The tears streaming down your cheeks coming in harsh rivers as your widened eyes let the water spill. Your shakes hands dropped the weapon, your body still stiff and surprised. Shakes traveled up and down, the only movement in your shaken body. Arty…

“It's okay, I think...you can do a bit better, Human.” All dams break, any hold on yourself is lost as you sob in absolute terror at what you had just done. Because he’s gone, because you're alone, because you hurt Chara, because- because- It hurts… You're so sorry. He knows this, you can tell, and yet you want to be able to scream it as you silently sob. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You want to say it as many times as it takes to finally find forgiveness in both him, and yourself.

‘I don't wanna do this…I want...I want to go home.’ You don't have a home anymore, really, that's just saying you want your mother. You want her so badly it hurts. You want that goat woman to hold you like she did, to feel the familiar fur. To smell that familiar scent on that woman… Anything to make you feel safe. Chara presses their hand into the small of your back and smiles when you look back slightly.

‘I'm sorry Frisk, I didn't mean for this to happen...I just wanted to be free…’

‘What do you mean? What do you need me to do?’

‘Take me-’ They point at your, now red, eyes, ‘-to the surface.’ You give a brief nod, determination in your eyes as they smile and fade away for the time being. You then detach yourself from Papyrus, eyes puffy and red (though not just the iris now). You shift from foot to foot as you try and decide what to do.  
“Was that a hug of acceptance? Does that make us friends?!” You smile and nod, he doesn't seemed to catch the mouthed apology and doesn't seem to know Signs either. A sigh sounds from your silent mouth as he gets ecstatic about it, just like Arty… Papyrus takes your phone, hands it back, and tells you to come over and ‘hangout’ as he takes your hand with his gloved one.

“I'm going to take you to a place I spend a lot of time at!” You walk towards the eastern end of Snowdin until he suddenly whips around, almost tripping you as he turns on his heel and you head back in the opposite direction.  
“My house!” It was the one with the odd decorations. Lights, of a familiar red, endlessly flashing on the roof. He opens the door and you follow, albeit a bit apprehensive (you were surprised he wasn't more wary of _you_ all things considering). The couch jingled when you touched it, there was a large pile of change in it. There was a rock covered in sprinkles that Papyrus claimed, ‘his brother was too lazy to feed,’ and a kitchen with a very tell sink.

Underneath was a drawer filled to the brim with dog hair and slobber. You suspect it had been raided considering the shocked skeleton that stood next to you. The fridge was filled with spaghetti and, seeing your interest, he proceeded to hand you a plastic container with something in it. It was cold but not nearly as frozen as the previously laid out plate (though that explains where his microwave went). It tasted a bit strange, not that you would really know considering you'd never had it before, and considering what you used to be fed...it was rather decent; good even.

You gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up when he asked if you liked it. You had learned this hand-signal from Gaster. Papyrus beamed, seemingly recognising the symbol of gratitude. After that, he took you upstairs. You had never been fond of second-stories, nor anything above or below the ground floor but it didn't bother you much in a house this open. The landing gave a few of the entire ground floor and this really set you at ease, you had always liked when the ceiling didn't completely incompass the bottom floor to separate rooms. The door was decorated with signs you didn't bother to read as he showed you the area.

A bed was shaped like...something you didn't recognize. There was also a computer, some toys, and a large flag. He told you about some of these things as your mind wandered, you were just growing comfortable with your surroundings when he startled you, shouting, “Hangout start!” He was wearing a new outfit with patterned sleeves and a cool hat, he seemed to notice the interest and lift it to reveal…a wrapped gift. You opened it and inside...was another plate of spaghetti.

He was happily describing the gift with a loud volume and a prideful voice as you sat yourself down on the floor and started eating. He seemed shocked at your enthusiasm as you ate with fervour. You were still hungry from earlier (as you had stuck the rest of the half-empty container in your bag for later).  
“Wowie, Human! I, the great Papyrus, have become great friends with you!” Your toothy smile was coated in sauce, he didn't seem to be bothered.

It was after this that you suggest a game via typing on the computer. Papyrus is happy to comply to hide-and-seek, starting off with you seeking. You find him easily but pretend you don't notice until you hear the tell-tale ring of the set timer. When it's your turn you go back upstairs, trying the room to the right. It's locked so you just shove yourself into the back of the taller skeleton’s closet. Ironic, albeit you could probably say there were now skeletons in his closet… A silent giggle bubbled from your lips. Compared to earlier, this was so much more relaxed, waiting for a simple timer to sound or to be found. _**Knock! Knock!**_

“Heh heh, this is the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘Who’s there?’” Sans? You opened the door to his amused smile, uneasy at the though that he may have witnessed your fight with his fellow skeleton. His easy smile betrayed no such emotion but it did give you a vague feeling of recognition, body stiffening at the thought of fake smiles on those kids. Lining up for pictures on the day they received little ID cards that meant more than names. Numbers, all clear-cut and listed on the front, names on the back (if you even had one). Yours had been as simple as the rest, a bright-green card that matched the eyes of Gerchland when he came back. The name listed on the back was one that had been heard as your mother screamed for them not to hurt you as the fire grew higher and higher- Frisk. It was most likely misheard and somewhat lost in the translation as well. Mother. Monna, she’s a burning corpse of charred and ash as the skin singes and- A hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, kid, you look a little lost there.” You shake your head, partially to deny this and another part to try and shake the ashen memories from your mind. His eyes suddenly look a lot like yours probably do, dulled to the point where only the sad could see the sorrow. You open your mouth to say...something- anything- He shakes his head and you don’t comment.  
“Don’t worry, I already got the story, no need to keep repeating it.” Your eyes glitter a moment as you remember that moment you’d already written off as a dream. That moment with...a skeletal figure in a cloak, he’d made a pun...about himself? Death reminded you of Sans, that didn’t sound like a good thing and yet you conveyed the idea to him.

“Am I some guy in a cloak that kills people? I’m hurt, kid.” You feel guilty but it’s brushed of as he continues, “You got the wrong Sans, better keep looking.” He winked and walked out. You were even more confused than before- _**Slam!**_  
“Human! I, the great Papyrus, have located you!” No time to think on it now (though a five minute timer had never felt so long before…), it was time to switch!

 

Merryweather came back. She told you she was sorry again. She isn't in charge of you anymore, she's no longer your keeper. You're going to drown in this horrifying revelation that feels big and swallows your soul like the blue skies. Panic welling as it overtook your being and rational thought. The memories of everything came flooding back in harsh waves that had you caught in the rapids of a hypothetical river. Her arms never faltered as she held you close, letting your soft sobs of terror stain her purple sweater as she carried you from that awful room and back to her own. You both waited there for awhile, sitting on her bed as she stroked your hair in a comforting motion, waiting for exhaustion to catch up and steal you away from her presence. It did, just like always, and not even the thought of never seeing her again could kept your sleep-deprived eyes open a moment longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Italics are symbolizing momentary flashes of memory.  
> -Just the way Gerchland didn't redye his hair when it looked like it did in present time, is a very bad sign.  
> -It may be obvious but...Frisk really dislikes the nickname 'Kuroi.'  
> -Chara's eyes are like an anchor. They've tried having other humans take them to the surface before but they all died, making them horribly afraid they'll never be free.  
> -Chara's eyes are no longer with Frisk in present time (Predictions anyone? It'll probably be happy to be honest...)  
> -Frisk doesn't know what a racecar is.  
> -Sans knows things. He knows everything about Chara's 'deals' by now but he doesn't like them.
> 
> Thanks to:  
> KitKqtEnderheart and Sadistcutey  
> For previously commenting and/or leaving kudos!


	12. The Return That Is Dreaded By Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy game quickly turns into angst...

The Reason I Run

His hold over you was a decision that was easily made after Morlalm lost hold of you. He was now much quicker to get ‘down to business.’ The technology had been updated in his lab, the horror show from before looking sterile; you doubted it would be for long. The hastiness of dropping straight back into a once familiar routine left you feeling clueless and scared as the floor seemed to fall from beneath, legs finding no purchase. Like a piece of paper had been thrust into your face and then you were expected to have known every word; top to bottom. You didn’t fight like back then...which was probably why it’d been so easy the past few days, the only complaints being your absent-mindedness, chattering phone (he’d broken it after a while), and ‘ridiculously constant’ need for naps that’d ended with you receiving an after prescription and a designated naptime. It wasn’t exactly paradise, though you couldn’t call it hell in comparison to before...it wouldn’t last like this for long, you were smart enough to remember that much.

 

The impromptu game was over within the next three hours but was very enjoyable while it lasted. The ending came when you had fallen asleep, first on the balcony, second on the fridge, and third (and final) time at the top on the closet. Papyrus was apparently looking for you all night since the kitchen timer you had been using had broken. So that morning you find yourself on a wire wrack meant from hangers and Papyrus on the floor of the kitchen; checking cabinets.  
“Human! There you are! You are exceptionally good at this game, though not as good as I, the great Papyrus!” Nodding eagerly in agreement comes naturally. He's making spaghetti again, Sans is nowhere to be found, and you have a lingering ache in your shoulder from old habits. Wait...had you done that before?

_The smell of frying dough woke you from your purchase and, swiftly jumping down, you make your way towards it; following a keen nose. Ears perk up as you enter to find an oddly motherly sight. Merryweather is at it again with her amazing cooking, coaxing you from that claim of yours and into the world of the awake in the early hours of the morning. She's smiling with a sugar-sweet face that's completely genuine as she hands you a stack._  
“Good to see you're up! Feeling a bit more confident today?”  
‘Not really, I just…’ You fidget, a bit lost for words. 

_“I get’cha! No worries, if that's what gets you up then it's good!” She pauses, “Besides...I don't want you to force yourself, Gold, I want you to be used to this first.” You always loved how she still called you that, now more of a loving nickname than anything else; a reminder that you're still the same as you were on the inside. You'd never bothered with your real name but...you'd always promised yourself that she'd be the first to know once you decided you needed to hear it again.  
“We can even start speaking more Vowthen phrases if you want to…”_

_‘Morlalm.’_  
“Mom. Monna is mother, and...Mo’Mo’ is mommy.”  
‘Morlalm.’ You repeat shyly, staring at the floor.  
“Yes that's mom, what about it, chensay-? Oh. **Oh!”** She blushes and you follow suit as she puts one hand on her forehead, giggling a sinister-sounding laugh that would once have made you fear for your life. You knew it was no harm, however, when she raised her head and tears were coming down her face as she pulled you into a hug. Pushing down the panicked instincts, you reciprocate it.  
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that without asking but...you just...surprised me, is all.” She looked shocked and a blush stained your face as you messed with the pancakes on your plate, drowned in sticky-sweet liquid. Her arms wrap around you and you each share a private smile; just for this room. 

You snap out of it when a plate is put in front of you. The memory lingers with the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that always followed Morlalm. Pleasant odor, unlike the perfume that previously unaccompanied her, and still does when she goes to the office… You still had to go on jobs but it wasn't so bad when you came home to fall in bed and wake up to a motherly gesture. The pasta was much better warm, you didn't particularly enjoy the sauce as it had too much flavor for you, personally. Still, you didn't comment on it, this was just fine without you ruining it like always. He boasts for awhile and you listen with a pleasant smile and your utmost attention, then he's out the door for patrol.

Sitting in the brightly colored kitchen is a task that suits you just fine. Letting pleasantly warm air cover you like a blanket, you'd always appreciated the little things like a lack of draft, especially after all that time in the snow-

_It was always so cold. Little to no insulation? Perhaps they simply wanted to psyche you out with the subzero temperature. You wouldn't give in and change for those monsters again. They hurt you...made you cry. Did they really think your bruised and battered body, exhausted mentally and physically, couldn't handle a breeze? You hated the chilly days since you were younger too, back when all you had to do was go inside and put on a coat; when it was all simple… Confinement suits you just fine, anyway, who needs the sun’s rays…? You wouldn't break, not for anyone. Not for little words- "Ingrate." "Alien." "Scum." "Lab rat." "Animal."-_

Another memory flash left you paralysed, hands curled into fists and body tensed. Bits and pieces conglomerating into something more, something terrifying that left you shaken and fearful. Fits of heavy breathing and pictures as colors moved to form and ears strained to hear invisible words. Breathe. Just...breathe. Hands on your head, clutching the pain-filled areas as though it would disable the source. Nails digging into palms becoming sharper and drawing blood, you didn't notice the pain through panicked mannerisms-

_Lighting coursing through your body as you touch the boundary of the fence. They let you outside today-_

-Keep it together, in. Out. In. Out-

_-Volt after volt filling you with shakiness like a you were hyped up on caffeine, veins flowing faster and faster as you ran through the deep, stinging pain of those invisible walls and boundaries-_

-No danger here, you're safe, always remember you are safe-

_-You trip, body not having the will nor strength to life itself as you crawl away, desperate for the freedom you'd wanted your whole life-_

-No one will take you back, right? They wouldn't do that...right?! Someone please tell you it's safe-

_-Sweat rolling down your neck and precipitating on your forehead as though a river was trying to drain from your very skull. Claws formed in a desperation to keep going, just get to the forest. The buzzing. The buzzing-_

-Nothing will happen? They won't find out what you are and- and- No! You can't go back! You can't! You can't-!

_-A single sound permeates the air of tension. You don't recognize it until it's too late, another sound ringing and piercing through the thick fog to match. A gunshot- pain- pain- so much pain-! Hand flying to your side as though the shocks were no longer even evident, bringing forth a patch of fresh, red liquid. Coating your hand in a sticky substance that stained the grass- No- nononono-!_

Breathing becoming heavy and yet the sounds of it were flying away as the world became darker and darker and the noise of you falling from the chair not even registering with your ears, nor your body. The floor was hard tiles but nothing was coming to your brain when it came to touch. Numbing feelings sticking to your limbs like a burn as it seared off your sensitive nerves-

_-It hurts, invisible feelers moving to fill you with shocks of a different caliber. Blood flowing freely onto a green background of uncaring nature as you stop and yet the world goes on. The darkness bridges itself over the blue sky and closes the light promised by it in favor of pain. It lied to you- promising freedom and giving backlash for the venture. Too good to be true- Everything is a lie here-!_

Everything...everything is a lie. It’s- It’s always been nothing but lies! Why should you expect change when- when everything has been against you from the start?! Expecting any difference is what’s always made you a fool; the but of every joke life throws. Humans...they hurt you. They call you human here...you’ve kept up this masquerade but do they expect that violence from you too? Don’t they understand what being human means?! What being on the surface means?! Where kindness is a statistic not given to those of your kind- monsters. Because you’d never want to be their definition, which is why you were able to control yourself, despite the label always and forever tacking itself to your back.

Humanity’s home, a place where nice ‘freaks’ are worse than ‘normal’ murderers...that’s a place no one here should go… You have to- have to warn them- to stop them somehow! You have to find _**Asgore.**_

 

You can change easily, not even a blink required before the shades and tones of colors on your arms began. This, however, was not that type of change. Copycat images phasing back into the originally purple state of your body was simple enough, not counting the mental strain it put on you when you saw the disgust in onlookers’ eyes. Feeling...whatever this was coursing through your veins, forcing the change but with pain and harsher reactions, matting fur, leaving it course as it seemed to rip from your arms. It was terrifying, that they can keep you from stopping what has always been within your power since you first felt it. However...the look in his crystalline eyes as he witnessed said reaction was even more horrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Frisk has Narcolepsy.  
> -The memory problems Frisk has is both an after-effect of the serum and a combination of stress, anxiety, and (as you'll see become apparent as it was in the past) depression.  
> -Morlalm means 'Mom.'  
> -Mo'Mo' means 'Mommy.'  
> -Frisk and Merryweather's relationship isn't the healthiest but...it's all they both have and they're learning.  
> -Frisk has Agoraphobia (Fear of Outside), influenced by mental-torment and physical pain they've associated with the outside or trying to get to it.  
> -Frisk wants to find Asgore to warn him about humanity's true nature.  
> -Gerchland's work has already begun (I maybe start only giving short blurbs of flash-forwards too, since that plot-line is meant to be much shorter and I've blow through a ton of it already).


	13. The Thing That Whispers To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An insight into Current Frisk's life. What's going on inside? What's growing in the garden?  
> (Due to the lengthy flashback I went back and separated the text to make for easier reading)

The Reason I Run

_‘Morlalm...why can’t I talk?’_  
  
_“Well, chensay, that’s a complicated issue...it really has to do with you changing.”_  
  
_‘My changing?’_  
  
_“When you first shifted, it was forced and, unlike normal kethrals, all your Vowthen features didn’t grow in at birth due to you being a halfling. Halflings have been known to gradually have said features develop on a much slower scale. Yours, on the other hand, was caused by the release of your Monna’s magic. As a result, an immense amount of stress was put on both your mental state and body so it left you with a few...lasting consequences.”_  
  
_‘Huh?’_  
  
_“Too much at once, little one.”_  
  
_‘Oh…but then...what about my eyes?’_  
  
_“Simply a hybrid color. One of quite the selection of colors.”_  
  
_‘What are they? I wanna know!’_  
  
_“Gold is the most common. After which comes violet, light gray, pink, red, yellow...and then a change in sclera. With a black sclera you can only have gold or white.”_  
  
‘Sclera?’  
  
_“The whites- in your case blacks- of one’s eyes.”_  
  
_‘Why not humany colors...like blue or green?’_  
  
_“Those are only shades seen accompanying blindness, chensay, a little film over the eye that turns the original coloration of the eye, including the whites, a tinted shade.”_  
  
_‘I don’t get it…’_  
  
_“Hmm...how to explain this…? Ah! Less red and more blue means bad, bad news. Even if a person isn’t blind...having a bluer eye is a symptom of many health problems.”_  
  
_‘Like what?’_  
  
_“Mental problems, chensay.”_  
  
_‘Mental...problems?’_  
  
_“Yes...human eyes differ, growing less saturated and taking on a gray or black tone but ours become more and more blue.”_  
  
_‘What kind of mental problems?’_  
  
_“Unfortunately, I have a great many examples...from the war.”_  
  
_‘From the war?’_  
  
_“Yes, Gold...fear, stress, depression, loss, mourning, and...control.”_  
  
_‘What do you mean by control?’_  
  
_“Brainwashing. The act of taking control of one's body and, in some cases, mind as they use it to act out their will; It's how a race despicable as the Shentiss won the war.”_  
  
_‘...you mean?’_  
  
_"Instead of doing- what I'd, personally, consider more humane- and draining one's magic in a painful manner physically, they amplified it with their own magic and used us as one-use soldiers; exhausting Vowthens and other monsters until they dropped.”_  
  
_‘H-How-?’_  
  
_“I'm sorry, chensay, I shouldn't have told you any of this...you’re so young- I…”_  
  
_‘No...thank you...for telling-_ **warning** me Mo’Mo’...’  
  
_“What has this world done to you, small one? This is not how kits should grow...scared and hateful…you're still so good, despite everything, I didn't think it even possible anymore…”_  
  
_‘Why- Why does the world have to hate so much, Mo’Mo’?’_  
  
_“I don't know, Gold...but I do know this. I love you.”_  
  
_‘I love you...please don't leave me like Monna!’_  
  
_“I- I don't know if I can promise that, Gold. I want better for you…”_  
  
_‘I don't want to go if I have to be alone again!’_  
  
_“...My poor chensay...if I could have it my way, you'd never be alone again...I'll remain by your side as long as I can, this I can promise to you.”_  
  
_‘Always?’_  
  
_“So long as you want me here.”_  
  
_‘Always.’_  
  
_“So long as you are who you are, I'll believe that.”_  
  
_‘Then I'll keep coming back.’_  
  
_“Little one…can't you promise me you won't return if you don't need to?”_  
  
_‘But-’_  
  
__**“Please,** Gold.”  
  
_‘I...I promise.’_  
  
_“Thank you...you don't know how much hearing that means to me; I want you to be free. I know it’ll be hard to be back on your own but...I want to give you the sun and moon and stars and all the wonderful things in this world; even if their beauty scares you right now.”_

 

The mirror tells a tale of tragedy, a battered body painting its reflective surface. Stinging resonated throughout your skin, occasionally buzzing as your ears rings to match. Sometimes he slaps you if it takes too long for your mangled brain to comprehend or your broken body to react. You barely feel anything besides the subtle taps of pins and needles as they irritate numbed skin. Feet slightly off-put by the burning snow that melts beneath bare soles as you stand in the wake of the sun. The ice acted as a cool pane that would have once brought on realisation. Now you were simply bored with it. You scarcely notice the slight tremble in your hands, not caused by cold since he'd said that was over with but by a lingering urge to run from the bright world as your irrational fears writhed in your mind.

The outside still bothered you, deep beneath the surface and layers and layers of reinforced metal where a small child laid still; or perhaps frightened and crying? You don't know. Bright eyes, once marked by blackened orbs and a ring of white, now softly glowing; overlaid with a pale aqua. Irises marred with the colour green now showing through as a minty color due to the overlay of sky-like coloration. She'd once said that it meant mourning, stress, depression, control, loss, or fear.

Fear seemed to apply if you accounted for within the confines of your brain. The stress constantly licked like fire on your temples, making itself evident through tiny tremors and subtle quakes. Your mother could count as a loss, linking to mourning through the window of memories that constantly drag you into a hell you've forgotten and recalled a million times over through every reset of the process. Depression...that constant white noise that never seemed to leave, static taking over as you raise weapons and show that empty smile on command. Hiding eyes behind long bangs as you block out the world and feel the deafness as sounds become too loud (hands no longer allowed to move and cover, to block out the sound) and voices turning from little whispers into screams that echoed in your conscience. Then there's one last conclusion, control.

Orders given echo along with screams. Hands moving to make motions and bring marks onto bare skin. Bruises marring each surface only just beginning to fade before being painted over with a darker color. You felt like a canvas for their constant output of emotion over the failures they say are yours and yet paper cannot truly do on its own; such as ripping or falling over. Blue eyes stayed dry as they watched from the floor, not bothering to move as the continuation follows the introduction of the story that could only be moved onto the store shelves labelled, ‘tragedy.’ Brown hair now a constant as they force you to stay in a human-like form that's similar to what you looked like before; back when you were Gold. It burns, body constantly wracked with itchiness and sweat from the strain of the long-standing change. You’ve learned to conceal it, lest they find another reason to tire you out even more; make you complacent.

Honah is quite attached, digging into your chest like a parasitic worm as it eats away at your soul itself. In fact, the last time you had looked it wasn’t quite the same as before. Nothing in appearance had changed and yet...something felt...off. Ever since then you’d felt a lingering ache, once a scorching flame that had made you writhe in pain now nothing more than a sunburn that permanently inlaid itself into your innards. Honah was an obvious cause to this pain but you did nothing to stop it as it chewed away at what made you who you are; winding human-like arms ever tighter around you waist.

When you woke up, that's when the nightmares truly brewed; dreams the only sanctuary from this reality of yours. Ironic considering your past fears of slumbering times, hours spent clinging to yourself and holding open tired eyes out of terror of what you had seen. In either case, mornings began in a fairly similar fashion since no real schedule had been drawn up; you hated that the most. Routines were the foundation of your world and without one you were extremely unproductive at most times of the day, the lack of encouragement and motivation both weighing factors to your daily wanders. Depression making the world gray as wisps of color hung at the edges of your vision, never to be caught in more than a brief glimpse. Listless and lost you simply walked forward, haunting the halls like a spirit. It wasn't healthy, you heard this mentioned often to your handler, he didn't seem to care so long as you were alive so what does it matter?

Occasionally you were pulled aside for other projects, people taking pity and giving work to the homeless and loveless little kid. He didn't like you making connections so if it took too long then it was put to an end rather quickly; immediately reverting back to both self-imposed and ordered isolation. Dozens of people were around and yet you remained completely alone, lost in the colourless world you had grown to call the norm. ‘Lost’ a word far too familiar to a person- thing like you. Everything was the same and, logically, you should know it all by now but each time you walked the corridor it seemed new; this same action continuing until you were steered in another direction or finally decided to turn your heel.

People avoided you and you don't blame them for doing so. Connections weren't allowed, nor was help, so having to watch and feel guilty for inaction is not a behavior humans normally seek out; not unless they're some sort of masochist. Besides, you weren't exactly an appealing individual, being nothing more than an inhuman shell of an object. The halls splitting naturally prevented further guilt for when they knocked you over and you simply laid on the floor, briefly staring at the assailant with pale, glazed over eyes; so used to giving the same reaction when being hit. It creeped them out, you think, the blank face and vacant eyes; showing like a true window to the soul. You aren't even there half the the time, simply clinging to your body by a wire as you walk forward robotically, the astral plain of stars comforting your fragile mind in a completely separate universe. Sometimes you called that place… “Home,” other times you couldn't even tell you were there through all the tears. It's the only way one can cope when pain is wrought by watery eyes and the biting of a lip.

Muffled sobs they always seem to hold a trace on as you try and conceal outward appearances. You have to keep everything inside if you want to keep being left alone, no one has to know that they still exist with Honah. They don't need to know that you haven't become Honah yet… you know that's why they made it. To tear you apart from the inside out until nothing is left but an obedient servant, you're not quite the slave they wanted. Complacent enough and yet still coherent of wants, wishes, desires, and emotions locked deep within. Ironically enough, Honah seems to have many desires, ones that keep them silent and non-intrusive; willing you to trust them and listen to their commands rather than exterminate you. The code is corrupted, just like their thought process. You could understand these things because they weave among the whispers it feeds you. Teaching new words, plans it has, the way the world works, and philosophy. You drink its ideals like a sponge or a thirsty traveler, distracted from the real world by stories similar to the ones you heard so long ago... It willed you to put your faith in them, to give up willingly and ensure a tighter bond; a connection never meant to be made. This was probably to keep you from coming back stronger, a new purpose and opinion on life (though you doubted that would happen anytime soon…).

A puppet with a mastermind is what the Facility wanted. A servant with an unwavering loyalty is what Honah wants. You had no idea which would come to pass but Honah already had quite the grasp on your mind; probably to keep you from fading away now that you really thought about it...preventing the corrosion of your soul to go any further. It felt so strange now, cold and light, as if it was just a ghost of what it was before. Determination once felt now long passed its due, chucked into the trash like the other rotten foods left out too long. Rot collecting in your eyes and making them that aquamarine coloration; giving you a constant feeling of vertigo and sickness. Speaking of which, the glazed look of your eyes seemed to stem both from your moods and the blue that lightly coated your eye in a serene sheen. Just like the gray that encompassed them within the mindscape. Honah’s pink the color of your soul in exact shade like a constant reminder of what what seems like a millennium ago, when you gave up; surrendering yourself to both madness and pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -This chapter is only an insight into Current Frisk's life, it doesn't feature the Underground tales.  
> -One of the lines of dialogue was inspired by a Final Fantasy game.  
> -Honah is the nickname given by Frisk to the creature, it means 'Poison' or 'Grief-bringer' in Vowthen.  
> -Honah uses Chara's appearance to be familiar to Frisk, in the future Frisk has already confessed that they may confuse the two.  
> -Frisk is gullible but they aren't stupid, common sense just isn't with them in this state.  
> -Honah is stealing from Frisk in order to form their own opinions and thoughts, leaving Frisk without this ability; they could possibly take even more.  
> -Frisk isn't very determined, they haven't been for a long time, not even while in the Underground have they ever been what they once were.


	14. The Determination That Is Gone From Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter but I needed to get this done before leaving tomorrow for the rest of the week and I wanted to have something posted to make up for it. Revision may come later. (PS: Added a visual aid to chapter one after getting permission to show it by the artist, maker in the description!)

The Reason I Run

Waterfall, as you'd heard them refer to it as, was bright and full of bright-eyed individuals. One of them explaining ‘Echo flowers’ and their properties, and the monster from earlier (whose bee comparison was becoming more and more accurate, earning him the nickname ‘Honeystripes’ in your mind) who seemed even more energetic than before. You took it as an encouragement and went on, feeling filled with determination. It didn't take long to reach an area of tall grass, the stiff muscles from the early morning left you tired and wanting to curl up in the inviting cover. You really did need to get some more proper rest and...traveling at night has always made for rather peaceful journeys...still, Honeystripes had gone in ahead, apparently without any warning to his parents. You were worried about the familiar friend-

_“Hey, Gold!” His smile shined despite the metal lining his teeth, blocking out most of the white teeth, “It's good to see you're okay! Though I'm awful sorry you got caught…” You brain was still scrambled, reaching into the depths of memories to rescue a name from the crevice of forgetfulness, you couldn't help cocking your head in confusion. He didn't falter, seemingly expecting such a reaction.  
“Silly, Gold, musta hit your head real bad, huh?” He winked as he took your hand- “Better get you to the infirmary. This wasn't the way, if you recalled correctly, yet you didn't comment on it; a part of your mind simply denying the action as he lead you like you were sporting an injury, holding tight to your shoulders as if he was afraid you would run._

_When you reached the room, it was cold enough to see your breath. Darkness swirling around seemed to buzz like flies were present. Objects blurred and when you looked back at the small, mousy, brown-haired boy, he looked...different. Green eyes replaced orange and you fought the grasp as if he were burning you. A syringe appearing in his hand, several others reaching to hold you down-_  
_“No! Stop! I don't want-!” Pressure covering your mouth as they rolled up your sleeve, legs flailing to kick your assailants. Water draining from your eyes like a faucet, fear making them burn as they inserted the needle. His voice rang in with comforting words, firm yet sweet._  
_“No, no, c’mon, Gold, don't move you'll break the needle-” The world seemed to freeze as the plunger was pushed, releasing honey-colored liquid into your arm- oh…_  
_“Feel better now, Gold?”_  
_“Yeah...I do, Markence- er, Mark.”_  
_“Anytime, friend.”_

Markence… Before the war started with the Facility he acted just like that...clueless and obsessed with comics and the outside world. When Arty ‘died’ something in him seemed to snap into place, he became a leader, a good one at that, kind and giving. He helped everyone keep their powers secret, alive, or both. His own powers were so well hidden they were almost nonexistent, the Facility planned to let him go at eighteen but he’d been determined to be put in for extra time for ‘behavioral issues’ a self-sacrifice for the people of your world… You hadn't seen him since-

_“Gold! **Gold!** Don' worry! The Arts’ll figure it out, we always think’a something!” The Arts were a nickname for the resistance, name coined from the man himself- “You're not alone, Gold! This don’t change nothin’! We’ll **save you!”**_

They been pulling you down the hall, tears rampantly running down your cheeks as final goodbyes were swept aside, not that you'd have wanted them with how shameful your purple skin felt that day. You don't know what had happened to him during all those years, he was young and a somewhat slow aged himself due to his healing abilities. Perhaps he's still at the facility…? You hope not, Mark was a good leader and friend, a great person in general; he deserved better than a place like that… Just like, Chara, Gaster, and all the people down here. Humans...they deserve to die, to give back after doing nothing but what they always do, take; take and break. Creating ruins out of worlds and their own creations as they let loose fire that says them adamantly named, ‘Shentiss.’

Your skin bubbled into spots of purple, existing freckles spreading a bit as anger flared. You slowed, rubbing at tired eyes once more and willing the spots to go away. They burned with a vengeance but, after a few extra seconds of concentration and power, quickly faded back into tan. The bushes were becoming more and more tempting, curled, brown hair already fading into the odd conglomeration of black, gray, and white it was originally. An ache in your head brews as you try and keep it the same color, failing after a while; simply resigning to the fact that maybe it's dark enough down here so nobody would see… Agh! You can't keep putting this off! You need to rest this form but...nowhere looked safe. Where could it possibly _be_ safe for you in a world like this? Tired eyes wandered ever forward on the path, keeping the journey going as you stepped into the long grasses and saw...someone…

“Ah! Undyne!” Papyrus was here? “I'm here for my daily report, about the Human I told you of earlier…”  
“Huh? Did I capture them?” You couldn't see through the tall grass but he was rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner, “Well, no, but-!”  
“Oh...you're going to do it yourself? Ah...alright, I'll get going then…” He sped off and you held your breath. You could see the tall, intimidating figure through the long strands of greenery that were parted. Your hand moved to widen the gap to see better but the rustle turned out louder than expect. Eyes turned and seem to lock onto yours, then- in a burst of power and impulse- you instinctively froze; body blending into the background as you pushed yourself further. You could feel the sweat pouring down your neck as the figure raised a bright-blue weapon to match the glow of this area, only letting yourself breathe and let out a sigh of relief when they were gone.

“Oh man! Did you see her? Undyne is so cool!” It was Honeystripes, he smiled as he emerged from the grass. Wait...that was Undyne? The same Undyne he'd raved about since you first met? The Captain...of the _**Royal Guard,**_ is hunting you. This doesn't sound good but you force a smile for Honey, he seemed even more energetic and it filled you with determination. He ran ahead as you calmly walk forward, hands already over with their trembles due to the determined feeling in your heart, she must be a good person if Honey likes her this much; after all-

_“Oh! Hiya, the name’s Markence, call me Mark!”  
“We’re friends now, right?”_

He was so much like _him._

Backtracking towards the waterfall near the beginning wasn't too far a walk and you'd realised that through your dazed walking you'd missed something. An echo flower at the very end that swears its seen something behind the rushing current. A camera peers through the water at you but that doesn't seem to be all, checking the top yields a secret little area. Lying on the floor is a pink garment with ruffles that looked like a leotard. Your bag is getting heavier but something about the clothing draws your eyes enough so that you slip it around your waist. You like the weight left on your hips that signaled its existence and decided to let it be, though you did take it off as you sat on the grassy ground in the secret room. A perfect place for a nap…

_“Chara! Hey, sib, it's time to get up!”_  
_“Chara...come on, please?”_  
_“Chara! Wake up! You have to!”_  
_“I...I don't want to lose you, sib…”_  
_“Please...I...I don't want to be alone…”_

_You woke with a gasp, a name on your tongue. Asriel...who? What was that just now? Some sort of dream? You don’t know that name and yet it lingers in your mind with an itch of remembrance that longed to surface. Bro-bro...No- wait… You’d never had a brother. Or maybe...in another life? One where these same eyes peered beyond your own head and were the chilling color of the tides. Where a boy held out his hand, a hand not made of human flesh but fur of a beautiful, pure white. Chara...is this who you wanted to protect? You can see it all now, sliding down like film as it replayed little moments in your head as your body acted of a different accord and a frightening message replayed itself to you, fusing with your own mind and wants._

_“All humans deserve to die.” It’s the truth, even if you are- were- may look like one. They called you otherwise, anyway, you weren’t human to them and you wouldn’t want to be in any case. They called you a monster, a sin, everyone in the village hated you; the world considered you scum. Why? You don’t know but the beldam seemed to constantly give excuses, countless reasons why you don’t get this and that. The reasons they scratched and hit and pulled at you, the reason they struck and took and broke. The reason you ran. All the way to the mountaintop, all the way to your death, to those flowers, to that plan. You just wanted to be free...you...and your family; even it meant you had to die in the process and leave Asriel behind..._

_...and break your promise to him._

What- huh? Oh. A...dream? Those weren’t your eyes though, the ones being used are the ones you’d grown used to; a lingering redness recognizable in the iris. The feeling was always different, a bit warmer than the normal feeling that accompanied said region of your face. You weren’t sure exactly why but that was simply the difference felt. Speaking of Chara, you hadn’t seen them since the incident, are they scared? Did you somehow prove yourself incapable of taking their eyes to the surface...did you lose them? You didn’t want to think about something like that, Chara meant so much to you; you knew them almost like you knew yourself. How? You didn’t know, you don’t even remember when you met and yet...losing them would be...heartbreaking.

_Chara-_

_**It hurts.**_

_Please-_

_**What is this?** _

_Don’t go-_

_**Why do I feel so…** _

_I need you with me-_

_**Empty?** _

_Stay with me-_

_**There’s nothing left but dregs…** _

_I want you here-_

_**Where did it all go?** _

_Please, hear me-_

_**Where is my determination?** _

_Come back-_

_**The soul is pale.** _

 

@#$%&

LV: 1  
HP: 12/12

Your stats have dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Frisk didn't start off like normal Frisk with 20/20 HP due to the little amount of DT in comparison.  
> -Frisk started with 16/16 HP  
> -Monster Kid shall henceforth be known as "Honeystripes," or "Honey."  
> -MK reminds Frisk of Markence, their old friend.  
> -Frisk is afraid that they've lost Chara's trust and friendship.  
> -Chara is not Frisk's "past self," making the "eye-deal" lets memories leak through.  
> -The beldam mentioned is a reference to a Fanfic I wrote about Chara that I plan to revise.  
> -"Sib" is a word I always thought Asriel would use, short for sibling.  
> -The promise wasn't to break the barrier, Asriel only wanted Chara to be happy and alive, to not attempt suicide again.  
> -Frisk and Chara both hate humans.  
> -The reason Frisk's soul is pink isn't because it's different due to them being part Vowthen, it's because they're losing DT so it's becoming paler and paler as they lose their trait and become gray.  
> -Frisk isn't sure who they are right now, which is why the name is blurred out.
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Messenger Bag  
> Armor: Ruffled Leotard  
> +Faded Ribbon (The flower is still tied in the fabric)  
> +Chewed Toy  
> +Bunny-Cat  
> +Toriel’s Phone  
> +Sign-Language Book (The translation guide and drawing is tucked into it)  
> +New Paintbrush  
> +Charred Scarf


	15. The Children That Are Like Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I got pretty caught up trying to edit this thing and it still isn't quite what I want it to be but I wanted to put some content up. The week's been kinda crazy so I haven't been able to find the time or motivation recently but I can guarantee next week will probably be easier since the schedule will be more regular. I'm sorry the plot didn't advance all that much, as per the norm..., but I promise I'm trying; I just keep getting caught up in emotional junk...

The Reason I Run

 

What is it that drives you? To relentlessly pursue another destiny after your fate had been told so long ago by someone many have come to know as all-knowing. That person being the circumstances you find yourself in time and time again, each a new chapter to a never-ending play that you'd acted in your whole life; fumbling through lines and making a fool of yourself during the unrehearsed scenes. Now was a time where you were not so clueless as to how things will turn and yet… Well, you’d never started out very motivated to begin with. A simple last dance to link hands with a lover that never came and left you crying on the empty steps of your home. Stood up by life on too many occasions to trust it anymore, to forgive what it had done. Yet it constantly clung to the back of your mind, the retreating figure as you told it you were over, you still loved life but, they didn't love you enough to deserve you anymore.

Maybe...it's just be easier if you gave it to them, your soul, that is. What are you really living for in the first place besides trying to get the last dregs of its beauty, like squeezing a tube of paste until it was flat. Perhaps they'd even let you make a...request, of sorts, just let you show them your true form and not cringe in disgust. Was that too much to ask? You weren't sure but...it was possibly worth asking. It would be a lot simpler for you as well, you could warn them about humans, change, and let them be free. It wasn't fair for someone like you to stand between their happiness; for anyone to. Chara cared about them- oh. That's right. The eyes…

Like the glow of embers they clung to a gentle heat, the echo of a once harsh flame all burnt out in the aftermath. Those little sparks of life left in the fire pit that had been carefully collected and handed to you to hold, and you did, despite all the licks of pain and burns that collected on your skin. Passing the torch is impossible without the fire itself and though you'd like to think that they could simply find someone else, that they'd follow your soul to the surface, there are no guarantees. Despite their recent absence you still care for them a great deal and you don't want their problems to always continue to be left unresolved. If they weren't freed after you died then there'd be no more humans even coming to the Underground so who knows; they could be trapped forever.

Even if the barrier would be gone, the risk is too great. Would a half-human soul even count as the seventh soul needed? No, that wouldn't make any sense, especially since you can scarcely even call it an entire soul at this point; given its graying color. You'd ask Chara but they'd probably about as much as you do, not that they were here anyway. This attachment was becoming unhealthy, you knew that, it was all you had though, there was nothing more to fight for than them. Keeping their hopes and dreams alive...was your determination.

This final thought was like a lure, dragging in the naive fish from deep within the confines of the black waters. With you following the string and clinging to the thought of food and the bright pink of the object as it drags through the sea and draws your eyes. For at the end of it, you knew, Chara would be there. You stood up then, the ghost of droplets you had not let fall clinging to your, once panicked, eyes as you open them, letting red irises show as you turn your face to seriousness, sheer will pulling you forward from that place. Because knowing that it wasn't only yourself that drove you, filled you with _determination,_ and that was enough for now to keep you moving on. The dream meant...something, sure, but for now the only thing that mattered was your promise, and that same mentality soon had you bursting through the grasses from beforehand, rustling loudly as it echoed throughout the cavern. The flinch doesn't come from the large sound, instead you brush it aside and simply keep moving forward.

You run with a feeling of vigor in your heart, as though a great energy you'd never felt before had taken ahold of your depressed and tired body. Hope...a word you had not believed in for a long while...maybe you could say, it isn't quite dead yet. Maybe you could even say that, for once, it was on your side after all these years of being the underdog in every conflict, the crowd was cheering for you; and it was... _heartwarming._ The same flame kept itself alive as you powered through the corridor, soon coming to a stop, lungs pulling in air with a slight desperation from your harsh sprint down the hall. Despite this your mind feels clear as it takes in the information on the sign, telling you to pull up the seeds and place them in a line. They're much heavier than they look, greens saying you down as you carefully place them in the water, nudging them forward.

The seeds took to the action easily and crawled through the shallow waters with ease, like sliding down an icy slope. The buds cling to each other with a desperation you could relate too, taking a moment to uneasily look towards your hand and compare. The hand shifts purple, your opposite hand reaching to touch the fur you remembered so well, and yet didn't recall at all. A mishmash of emotions hit like a storm, guilt, embarrassment, sadness, fear. All remained firmly present, the nicer ones representing comfort being overshadowed easily by the extreme presence of other thoughts. The action only lasts a few seconds before you tear your gaze from the violet palm, shifting it back as you cross the bridge; the strength of it only making a more somber feeling appear within yourself. Thankfully, the fires have not gone out, the telltale scent and feel of smoke present with only roaring flames as accompaniment; no ashes.

You had to keep yourself together despite the feeling of loss, of falling apart and the hopelessness that watched, water bucket in hand. Two parts of you seemed to be in a war that was always inevitable, Chara fighting with you as raw instinct threatened morality and hate threatened what was good. You fought well together but at the same time felt completely outnumbered by whatever was clawing at your mind, what was locked inside that told you to let go and simply claw and fight your way forward. Repression had caused this, you knew that much, that and pure insanity from...isolation? The self-hatred bred into you as much as it was taught from the very start? Who knew? It was simply...there, the lingering darkness you'd held onto for a possible escape and for the emotional presence, that now couldn't be thrown away despite the need of it for sanity’s sake due to the claws that had sunk in. Like a plant left nearby to grow into one’s skin as a method of torture it remained just beneath the surface and destroyed what love you may still have, what humanity was present after they'd decided you had to follow the ideals and yet received no rights in return. Not even less condescending looks and hateful words; like they'd only taught you speech so you could know you were worthless.

This distraction that kept you awake also reared its ugly head as you worked out solutions. The bell was missing from its place and, after tripping and letting one seed fall into the opposite river, you let the others fall next to it in hopes that perhaps they would release afterwards. Curiosity let the self-deprecating thoughts rest as you followed the path that seemed to wind around the corner. A room lay nearly empty, only a bench and a flower left for accompaniment. Underneath lay a...pie? No, it seemed to be something different, tasting it left the same conclusion, it wasn't sugary but savory inside; tasting vaguely of egg. The flower chimed as you reach to take it from beneath the bench, fingers curling around the edges of the tin-

 

“I just wasn't ready for the responsibility…” The tin clatters a bit as it drops back beneath the bench-

 

_“She left me...wanted to drop me down Mt. Ebott once, in fact, instead she just...left.”_

_“But...why?”_

_“She tried to explain before but-” His fists clench, “-It all just sounded like one big excuse.”_

_“Would you tell me what she said, Mark?”_

_“‘I'm sorry, Markence, I just wasn't ready to be a mother, please understand-’” He stops short as a tear rolls down his cheek, it doesn't look right on a boy so cheery by nature, “‘-Please forgive me for this, make yourself scarce.’”_

_“Mark…”_

_“I tried to see it from her view, maybe she was afraid ‘cause she knew I'd be like this, maybe she was tryin’ to help me, but those just sound like my own excuses.” You shift to hold him a half hug and he lets his head rest on your shoulder as he continues, “I just can't help but thinkin’ she might’ve kept me if- if-”_

_“No ‘what-ifs’, Mark, we all promised that, remember?”_

_“I ‘member…”_

_“You can't think like that, we have to be strong in the here and now, especially since you and I will be around for a long time.”_

_“I know...I just- I just can't sometimes.”_

_“It's okay, Mark, just...let it out, I'll be here the whole time; I'm not gonna leave.”_

_“...thank you.”_

_“Anytime, my friend.”_

 

Mark, his mom, she- she said the same thing before...before she left her son to die. The echo of Sans’ voice was an easily recognized signal and you found yourself frozen to the spot, eyes wide as you sat yourself down on the ground. Benches were for people, that thought being what your mind supplied, too distracted by the flashes of...something! Like a wave crashing on the shore you felt everything simply slow into a stop, high tides coming to scrap glass into smooth spheres and steal away towels, leaving shells and sea creatures in their place. Because _nobody_ was _ever ready_ for _this,_ you can say a mother may not be ready for their child to be born like this but...really, that child- no, _you_ were never ready to be born like this; you never asked for it either. You'd never asked to be born in the first place. From this point you couldn't decide if he understood too well, or he never did in the first place, even more questions brewing at what had dragged him down to the point you'd felt yourself, and many others, come to be familiar with; weights becoming more like uncomfortable drags that we each bore on our chests, arms, and legs.

You, Markence, the others, even Gerchland, they'd all felt this once. The hopelessness that seemed to latch on and secure you to a surface as you lost the will to fight, to scream, to even get up anymore. It had happened to you and many others that knew this pain of a more metaphorical sense than a physical one, when even threats couldn't raise what was thought to be dead. The despair that held fast to eyelids and pulled them down despite warnings, letting fragile bodies sink to the floor as it felt so much warmer than before...or maybe that was just you-?

 

_“Gold! For the sake of all that is holy, pull your narcoleptic self off the floor!”_

 

Ah, right, narcolepsy. Still, laziness was a common insult due to being too common a symptom of the depressing states children found themselves in. When you couldn't bare to take another breath, or move another muscle no matter how uncomfortable you are at the time. It spread like a disease as you grew until kids were being paired up in an effort to reserve the number of bonds but also keep out the isolated feeling everyone seemed to know. Mark was gone after that, they never found anyone compatible for you, and you were even more alone than before. It's funny, almost, the attempt to help was what had made you even more crippled as those in ice were pulled up by the fire while you were carried, kicking and screaming, to the, otherwise, empty freezer. The glass was put in later on but everything became worse from that point forward, watching as other young ones were pulled out and healed while the music became quieter and quieter for you, fading away as you were forgotten.

 

_“This wing is being closed-off for good, there's no one left here, kid.”_

_“But...my friends are still missing!”_

_“Shouldn't have gotten attached, huh?”_

_“Marcie...Jax...Whitney...why aren't they here?”_

_You knew those names as well, though not the voice that called them. A hand was tapping the glass, glancing at the source left a clue of whereabouts. Marcie...all skin and bones was tapping in vain with a sad smile. Her long, curly, black hair greasy due to filth and much longer than you recall. Her, once, chocolate colored skin now sporting a deep amber as smoke bled from her fingertips onto the frosty glass. Tears are flowing from bright, yellow eyes that sizzle on the floor and pool like sludge; lava._

_Jax was sitting against the glass, one sheep-like ear pressed against it as he wept. Lime green hands covering the horns on his head and pulling at short, brown hairs in mourning. Eyes closed as he breaths fast, as though the air will disappear soon, he seems to be repeating a phrase in an unknown tongue. A pair of light-pink, ghost-like hands are tugging at a black collar at his throat as a light-yellow one smooths his multi-colored skin in a comforting motion._

_Whitney was lying near the center of her area, a ball occasionally being pushed around in the air the only evidence she was still breathing. Her shoulders barely moving as her pale, cerulean wings lay unfurled behind her lithe form. Skin now a light-gray color, hair a bright white as it almost camouflages her within the snow-colored room._

_One more at the end, she reminds you of yourself most of all. She is growling and throwing herself against the glass in a desperate and enraged action. She claws and scratches at it, leaving behind little marks of a paler color, marring the walls with a darker shade. Light-blue hair (the color is much more saturated than Gerchland’s icy blue) long and wild as she clings to the wall for hours at a time and howls throughout the night, only stopping where she falls when exhaustion hits. Sometimes all you do is watch her, she does the same at times, simply looking back with curious eyes of a blinding white that still contain a whole host of feeling. It was moments like those that made you think it may just be an act considering the deep sadness in those eyes that mirrored your own; just like you...she had been forgotten. Truly, Crux had been the first person you ever felt understood._

 

During those years you were repeatedly taken for ‘training’ under Gerchland’s supervision, until he simply got tired of the lack of effort and intake, choosing to hand you over to Merryweather. Crux...what had happened to her-? **_Ring! Ring!_ **

“Human! It is I, the great Papyrus! How did I get this number? Well I just dialled each number sequentially until I got yours! So...what are you wearing? I'm asking for a friend. She said she thought she say you wearing a ‘Dusty tutu,’ are you?”

Is that what this frilly leotard is? You pull at the garment curiously, still a bit stunned from being jarred from your thoughts and simply tap the receiver on the phone.

“Thank you, human!” Silence followed and you shake your head, still sweating from all the memory flashes. You needed to stop getting so distracted by the past...moving forward was the only option now and…you had a warning to deliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Frisk thought about just giving up until they thought of Chara  
> -Marcie, Jax, Whitney, and Crux all faced similar confinement methods to Frisk and may be touched on later (they'll probably be just as messed up)  
> -I may actually start a dedicate a chapter to Crux or some sort of side work since I really like her character.  
> -Markence's parents considered dropping him down a mountain but instead just abandoned him.  
> -The child asking to see his friends is not Markence, I won't talk about him again but I've dubbed him "Youmor."
> 
> Thanks to:  
> TheMillionthGirl  
> For previously commenting and/or leaving kudos!


	16. The Soul That Is Enough From Me

The Reason I Run

 

A part of you wished for forget, as always but now seemed to hold a special place in your heart and a certain need for that sweet scent of an empty mind. Why? It doesn't need much explanation, really. You had been minding your own business after harnessing the strength to get up (only to fall down and end up sitting down for awhile), crossing the bridge after more plants had appeared. After which you had only advanced when...a certain light appeared in a bright, aqua flash. A terrifying sound of accompaniment then sounded through the cavern with a horrific vengeance in mind that told you that someone was there. Looking back slowly could be reminiscent of a horror film as you told yourself no one was there, that you would be just fine. As it turns out, these thoughts are quite useless in the face of an armored figure holding a spear.

In a second you were high-tailing down the dock as a seemingly infinite amount of the spears clunked into the wood behind you, encouraging a hasty retreat if you wanted to survive. If you had been closer you may have been able to fight back but...she was just too fast to even stop for a moment; even in that clunky, metal suit. Unfortunately, it seemed fate had a certain hatred for you and decided to inform you of exactly why running on a dock quite close to the water is a terrible idea, even in the face of danger. Instead of waiting around for said danger, it came to you in the form of an oddly attached board, creating a small ledge that you hadn't seen beforehand and well… To make a long story short, you fell, hard, right into the water, after hitting your head on the wood hard enough to make stars appear in your vision and blood start to pollute the water.

How did you know about the blood? History was repeating itself, leaving you staring through your own eyes and into the depths of the water as your bag tore and became sodden with water. No feeling came to your limbs and no breath was needed as unblinking eyes gazed at the bottom of a dark abyss from their dead host; as you undeniably were. A hand fished you from the water, turning you over to see Death once more.

“You know, you're making my job a lot harder, kid.” It made you want to apologize, even as you sat in his arms with no life inside of you. “How many times you plannin’ on dyin’?” The blood in your mouth from a bit tongue was bitter and coppery as it spilled from the corners of your mouth. Your soul was floating above you, free from your body in all its pink glory as metallic hands carefully scooped it from the air in a gentleness you'd never knew she possessed. His skeletal arms morphed to hers as you realized you were watching her from your body that lay in her grasp, hands cupping the soul as her arms held you up. Her helmet lay on the ground beside her and the sad smile on her face almost made you want to smile back despite the sorrow encompassing both of your hearts and the gesture stretched across your face despite the numbness in the action. She seemed to notice, eyes growing cloudy as she capped the container she'd let the soul float into, before removing her gloves and reaching out a hand towards your face. Your eyelids slid closed just as the motion of her walking began and it rocked you into a darkness unlike any other.

 

_“Frisk!” Huh? Who is that?_

_“You can't give up just yet!” Chara?_

_“You have to stay determined!” What? Chara? Wait! They were already walking away when you picked yourself up with a fire in your heart, tearing after your friend. You thought you'd never see her again, tears filling your eyes and dropping to the floor as you ran through inky blackness. They continued walking calmly forward, always staying ahead even as you ran towards them, breaths coming in pants and arms flailing out to catch their shoulder as you drew closer. A brightness came forth as you reached, their face turning towards you with your own eyes staring back at you, coated in a sheen of tears. Then everything went white._

 

Huh? You jolt, feeling awakened despite your previously opened eyes. You're standing in the middle of the previous room, memories flooding back from everything that had happened and some things you seemed to have missed. Undyne’s prayer of thanks as the barrier fell. A flower in your hands that was yellow and familiar and the tears of a black-eyed child as they kissed your forehead in thanks for all you had given up to set them free. The clunking sound of a coffin’s lid, the budding darkness growing ever darker, darker, yet darker as the cracks of light became filled in with dirt. Because you had been human enough to free them and...you had gotten to see yourself being thanked for finally serving a purpose, and what a liberating feeling it was, to even see Chara set free despite your death. What was to stop- Right. Your quest can't be over until you tell them of the human race that enslaves, that tears people from their family, that kills and hurts for the sake of greed and to those they consider lower than themselves. Disgusting. They'd surely hurt the monsters here.

Time on the surface would feel like a literal breath of fresh air but...even if they insisted on taking your soul to reach it...you still felt an obligation to warn them. To tell them of the Facility and the children it took. Even if it all felt meaningless...it was comforting to know you had a use that could ultimately please everyone else. That's fine. Still, you wished that Undyne would listen to what you had to say and take it seriously (because you know she won't) then it would be a lot less walking for you. Heh heh. You chuckle at your little joke as the hall slowly edges out of your vision, replaced by water on both sides as the song and dance prepares starts again. Knowing that it was okay if you weren't strong enough...filled you with _determination._ Enough to keep on trying to advance for just a bit longer.

Your legs had to keep in a steady walk to prevent from slipping off due to water or uneven planks, meaning a few straying spears had hit you. They tore through your legs with a bloody message with little room for a return address as scratches littered through your limbs; scraping at the gentle soul inside of you. The burn of pain and aching limbs made you thankful only a few hit but also sorry any had at all as the energy making them up seemed to prolong the bleeding as you advanced. The end soon came into sight, however, and the moment you stepped through you felt your legs rush you forward for fear of being followed. Heading turning back as you passed a crystal and then...a door? You stop short, sweat pouring from your brow and fear in your eyes, cuts still leaving a messy trail to follow you as your hand reaches to grasp the door knob. As you do, something seems to fall from your bag and hit the ground, a key, you pick it up in confusion before turning back to the white entrance that seems out of place in the blue landscape.

The door is unlocked so the key is quickly tossed back into your bag without another thought as the door swings inwards on silent hinges. The moment both your feet are inside it swings shut with a short _click_ that, oddly enough, doesn't seem to unnerve you despite the fact that you hadn't been the one to close it. Inside is a gray room without much to it, just a simply hallway and a small area of silence. Your bag hits the floor as you sit down on the far wall, feeling rather safe in this place thanks to hearing the lock. No one would find you here. Unfortunately, it seems the good nature of the find is quickly ruined by a few factors, the first being hunger, the second thirst, moving onto pain. After that came the appearance of key out of nowhere that could have been in your bag for much longer without your knowledge, and then continued bleeding of your injuries that showed no signs of clotting anytime soon (not to mention your lack of bandages). Hm...add some exhaustion to the mix, seems the stress of...dying, really took it out of you, you _had_ just had a nap only a short while ago.

An idea struck. You took off the leotard, looking it over before sharpening your teeth and tearing into the fabric, letting it rip in controlled chaos. Soon you had numerous strips of pink cloth all separated from the skirt, which wasn't the right material, all laid out on top of your coat (which you had long since taken off and left in your bag) to keep them clean. It would have been better to wash them first but you didn't want to leave this place just yet, instead you simply wrapped them around torn parts of your skin. Soon you were a mishmash of different rosy colors as the pink was stained red in places. To pass the time, you counted the coins you had found. There was quite a lot, totaling at about 100g’s worth in the small currency; most of it found after surviving those battles, from a snow poff, and some from the couch back at Papyrus’ and Sans’ house.

Maybe you could go find something to eat real quick. Crossing the room was quick, your things remaining inside since you hoped to be right back. A telescope sat to the left of the room, another monster simply standing about near the right but the middle led to- oh! A familiar stand with a blue monster, he was mumbling about sales, when you approach he perks up and tells you about punch cards and prices. Four sales later and you have five ‘nice cream’ and no money; worth it. Tearing into the first one as you make your way back reveals the message, ‘Love yourself! I love you!’ It draws a smile from your face as you stow it in your pocket and return to the gray room for a little break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Reaper Sans makes another appearance  
> -Death #2, the count will start picking up soon...  
> -Coming back is making Frisk tire quicker  
> -Frisk's soul is human enough  
> -Frisk sees through their body's eyes after death  
> -Frisk heard Undyne's thanks as their soul was used to break the barrier  
> -Asgore did not help Frisk back, this time it was Chara  
> -Frisk was buried on the surface with a buttercup bouquet  
> -Chara was freed even after Frisk's death due to still having their eyes  
> -Gaster's room is here but now its empty, left open for Frisk to take refuge in, a safe room  
> -The mysterious key is not the key to Mettaton/Happstablook's house
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Messenger Bag  
> Armor: Ballet Skirt  
> +Faded Ribbon  
> +Chewed Toy  
> +Bunny-Cat  
> +Toriel’s Phone  
> +Book With Notes  
> +Paintbrush  
> +Charred Scarf  
> +Woolen Coat  
> +Strange Key  
> +Nice Cream (3)  
> +Encouraging Wrapper


	17. The Others That Are Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just couldn't seem to get this one right, so I tried a new formula. Sorry about all the new characters recently, I know its probably bothersome but know that they aren't really part of the main focus so you won't see much of them.

The Reason I Run

 

    The kid hadn’t contacted them for a long time now. Their little community is a tight-knit group that Frisk is still a part of, even if sometimes they didn’t think they so themselves… Not because they didn’t like their friends, Frisk was just...complicated inside. More than once, Sans had heard the little mumbles, though he had missed most of Frisk’s time trying to hunt down that stupid flower. He really didn’t know the kid all that well but...he can’t help but feel like he should have tried harder to figure out their ‘big secret.’ This being the reasoning as to why he was currently walking through the woods that surrounded a familiar mountain, trying to recall the path they had stolen away on. Someone had to find them, because it was obvious they weren’t coming back any other way.

 

    Backtracking had become something of a hobby for you, which was probably why you had found yourself gazing up at the starry ‘sky’ of the wishing room. The door had disappeared by the time you had returned, everything left in it all piled up outside where it once was, you had to admit, it had scared you at first...just like the echoes. When that monster had explained them, you didn’t expect it to sound so ominous and sound just as you passed close by. Little calls to make a wish on the stones above had you following suit, nearly using it up to wish you could speak of it again.

    ‘I wish,’ You mouth, body lying on the ground as your hands held up the toy knife, examining the object, thinking of the wish you’d most like to come true, ‘Everyone could be happy, the monsters, Chara, the Vowthen...your mother, maybe even the humans too-’

 

    _“Livia...wait here, okay? Mommy will be_ **_right_ ** _back.”_

_“Okay! I’ll wait right here!” Her warm smile and tired eyes were the last thing you remember when you think of her. The way she seemed to sincere, knowing her child would be right where she left her no matter what. You had always been an obedient girl, so you simply stood with confidence that she would return. Minutes then bled into hours as your legs grew pained from standing in place, you sat down as the sun did; replaced by a somber moon. Crickets chirped as the wilderness stirred around your small form, bringing on threats of dangerous predators and darkness’ cold embrace and chilled air._

_“Mommy…?”_ _A wolf’s cry startles you, the beast slowly approaching with a feral grin as you stepped back, foam dribbled from its hungered jaws that showed it would fear no intimidation; not that you had any to give._ ** _“Mommy?!”_**

**** _You stepped further back, faltering as your foot was caught on a tree root, nearly tipping you over. You gaze behind you for a brief moment, no escape, nothing but a chasm of inky blackness beneath you. The beast lunged forward and your body instinctively moved back, ankle slipping free just as you lost all holds and hopes on staying skywards. Your hands moving to grasp at nothing, screams tearing from your scratchy throat as you fell down and the wolf followed. By the time two had fallen, one was dead, and the other was holding the leg of a corpse in its mouth, that had a ribbon in their hair._

 

It dropped from your hand as the opposite immediately moved to hold the ribbon that still held a buttercup to your hair. Was it hers? Livia’s ribbon…? Why did you just see that memory? Like Chara’s it had come into your mind without much thought, simply appearing and leaving behind confusion, dysphoria, and a general sense of the unknown. You could still recall the color of the soul as it floated from your body in the last moments before she had died, leaving the situation frozen and ingrained into your mind as the rabid dog took ahold of her; blurred by the girl’s tears but ever present with a feeling of fear. A little toy that the girl had been fiddling with on the mountaintop being pulled with her body, moving with the belt of rope at her waist that secured it.

    “Mommy…” She stands in front of you, a young child glowing the same light blue as her eyes, hair white and wavy at its shoulder length. A gray tank top, black shorts, and rain boots (they’re dirty and the color is so faded they appear gray) make up her only attire, not counting numerous green band-aids applied to her arms and legs. She looked on with eyes of a deep understanding that made you want to fidget under her gaze for fear of scrutiny despite the patient aura. She hadn’t wanted to die, shouldn’t have died, why did she die? It wasn’t fair that humans ruined everything, even for themselves; perhaps it was even less fair that she had died but you were still here. Her gaze turned downwards as reality seemed to dawn, her own final wishes finally freeing from her lips.

    “Take me home...please.” Her hands moved over the damaged weapon that lay on the ground, then moving to put a hand to your hair and the other to your hands.

    ‘How am I supposed to do this…?’ You mouthed, not necessarily to her but to yourself as you pondered the lives on your shoulders; not of humans but of souls that simply wished to be freed that had never gotten the chance. Chara themself had only been helped because they knew from experience that they would need your eyes as insurance, and your bond as a way to make an agreement; a bond you still were unaware the origins of. At that moment, her hand fell on your shoulder despite the panic still encompassing her from her semi-transparent form. She gave a sad smile as she pressed the blade into your hands and guided your fingers to take ahold of it. It began to glow with a soft, blue light that shone brighter than the blueness of Waterfall as whispered to you one last time.

“Don't worry, we’ll all be fine…” Her fingers slip away from yours, and when you turn she's gone, leaving nothing but a lingering feeling on your hands and an odd sort of patience that makes you feel like you wouldn't mind taking your time.

 

You wait for a little longer in the starry room, still feeling detached but sweetly calm from the encounter. It was like coming into a high as your sense blurred and left you feeling content with the world as the feeling of a new trait flowed into you. It slowly faded over the course of the day, hours going by in a blink until night fell you ‘woke-up’ from your delusion. By the time you had stumbled back to where you had backtracked from, it still held one monster. They stood in silence, simply gazing at the fluorescent waters of the Waterfall. When they saw you approach they noticed immediately, you went to walk past until their query made you stop in your tracks.

“What's a star?” You turn, brow furrowing in confusion, “Can you eat it? Can you kill it? Are you a star?” You shook your head, trying to find the words to explain something you didn't understand yourself. You made a few signs but the monster didn't respond, merely standing with the same vacant expression until you got uncomfortable and walked-off.

“What's a murderer?” You stop in your tracks. “What do you call that...a person that kills? A murderer?” What-?

 

_“You've done well, Kuroi.” Neck dripping a red substance, flesh detached from vital veins as they spill their contents onto the linoleum tiles. Bones showing through from broken parts that you had felt snap in your tiny hands as they fought and screamed and cried. As you had waited for them to just tell him what he needed so you could_ **_stop-_ **

 

Your eyes stay trained to the floor as you shake your head, slowly then in a vigorous motion as if to convince yourself it didn't matter.

‘I don't know…’ You knew they didn't understand but it wasn't for them to hear. Your steps became heavy, spine stiff as you walked forward in a fast-paced motion with your arms straight. Flowers called about a story, two children each talking of dreams and laughter as you pulled a pair of ballet flats from a shrub. You ignore the familiar ring of Chara and Azzy’s voices as they talk about the stars, about monsters, about being _free._ What you don't ignore is the person that standing at the end of the hall. Another spirit. His feet bare on the ground, skin a darker gray than Livia’s, leggings of black that ended past his knees and a long, flowy white shirt with the words ‘Dancing is good for the soul’ in cursive. His long, blonde hair was tied back in a high, curly tail and the right side of his face was covered in little green stickers in the shape of stars.

“They’re sorry, you know that.” A little voice called, spilling from his lips as a memory came to meet the words.

 

_“Dancing is for girls!”_

_“Yeah! Sissy-Nilah!” Their words didn’t phase you as much as your face betrayed, water moving down your cheeks as you steeled yourself and walked off with pride. Hands came to cup your bruises, smooth your hair, and tuck you in. Your mother was enough for you, enough to persevere. Unfortunately, it was the sound of a single ‘_ **_bang!’_ ** _that echoed and reverberated in your skull with a terrible consequence you knew to be true as you bounded down the stairs. The door was open, the laundry basket covered in her blood as she lay on the floor, facedown, with no movement. With a horrified look and a single gasp you_ **_run,_ ** _farther and farther to high ground as more sound rings behind you with shouts that claim ‘No witnesses.’ There is no choice but to jump._

_Toriel is a nice person but she is not your mom. You need to find her. Sneaking by during the night is easy, what isn’t is avoiding the harsh swings of glowing metal that are horribly sharp. Blood staining your precious tutu that you leave to dry in a cave, shoes falling off one-by-one in the swamp-like area of Waterfall. In the end you are left without them, a single view of a fuzzy room and pains filling you as hunger seeps in and tears you apart_

 

A sickening pain seems to radiate from your stomach as the memory fades, leaving you and Nilah alone once more.

“Go back and find our other friend…” This is last piece of advice he gives before he fades away, hands ghosting over the leotard on your person and repairing ripped fabric. He then gives a sweet smile, green eyes closing to widen it as you are, once again, left alone. For now you couldn't afford to waste the time backtracking any longer but...you soon vowed that you would as soon as the opportunity came, to look for the rest of the pieces to the puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -That was Sans at the beginning  
> -The monster asking about murderers is a reference to Fading Away  
> -Livia is the aqua soul  
> -Nilah is the blue soul (and a boy)  
> -Nilah told Frisk to go back for the items you find in Snowdin (Orange soul)  
> -When Frisk collects all the items and reaches a certain point of emotional stress, the children give their advice and then leave; this can only happen once
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Worn Bag  
> Armor: Ballet Leotard  
> +Faded Ribbon  
> +Toy Knife  
> +Bunny-Cat  
> +Toriel’s Phone  
> +Book With Notes  
> +Paintbrush  
> +Charred Scarf  
> +Woolen Coat  
> +Strange Key  
> +Nice Cream (3)  
> +Encouraging Wrapper


	18. The Friend That Forgot What We Are?

The Reason I Run

 

    Waterfall is a _very_ large place. Your long hours spent reading historian and listening to faint voicing of the friends you once knew could attest to that. Though you supposed your constant stops, occasional bouts of cataplexy, and backtracking didn't help much. However, seeing a giant octopus rise from the water was just about the last thing you predicted despite the vast open spaces. Onion-sans was an odd character, idly chatting rather than actively trying to prevent your progress as expected. You found yourself thoroughly enjoying his company, promising to revisit later after wasting precious hours simply listening to his talks of bands and about his friends. It seems even after your feelings of lateness it was still hard to resist the company of another that _wasn't_ trying to kill you, nor has ever tried; it was refreshing. Soon after the lake-filled room came a similarly colored area. The hole in the middle was dauntingly far down and when you dropped a stone down it never made a sound. Another then sidles from the corner, humming an audible tune. It reminds you of your mother’s little lullabies, no doubt only sung to quiet her child when restlessness could not be afforded in hiding; still the tune comes easy.

 

You match her pace and let low notes accompany the high as you sit besides her in the grass when it seems she doesn't mind. The song rises in volume over time, moments turning longer and longer as you close your squinted eyes and lose yourself in the pleasant tuning. A concerto of humming and whistles echoes and attracts cavern-dwellers from far within, they don't join in, choosing only to listen on. Similar melodies becoming complex and yet staying just as simple until you both stop at the same time, turning towards each other with a small, shy smile. Monsters cheer for you and Shyren even as you wave goodbye with a lazy hand, splitting at the corner to go your own ways. Walking further brings you to a strange statue, dripping with water from the neverending drips onto its form; it looks lonely. You peak into the next room, spying a basket with a lone umbrella despite the sign willing people to return them. It only takes a moment’s decision for you to take it, mentally apologising to the empty bin as you open it, smiling at the bright, red fabric; the statue will be wet no more. Without the constant drips you look at it more closely, spotting the familiar form a of a goat that seemed to be keeping a child dry themselves, it made you wonder… Still, it wasn't like you had anything to do with it.

 

The music surprised you, however, a quiet tune drifting down the hall and carrying you back to the previous room, Shyren was gone, no doubt waiting out her solitude elsewhere. A piano sat quietly in the upper room, keys dusty and silent as your clumsy fingers struggled to match the tune being played, recording the notes in your book so as not to forget the pretty sound. A distinct **_“Thump!”_ ** followed the set of notes, opening a pathway to a large, red orb. You take it into your hands, feeling the warm ball as it glows in your palms; eyes growing wide as it beats like a heart. A copied slam follows and the door falls once more, seems something will have to be left behind; you don't want to but...you feel drawn to the artifact. You absentmindedly pull a Nice Cream from your bag, putting the wrapper aside as you dump the contents of your, rather heavy, bag. Hmm...getting rid of the items is out of the question at this point, you still need to dispose of the book, you'll need the phone… Piles are soon made, one contains said things and another holding your Bunny-Cat, paintbrush, make-shift scarf, coat, key, and wrappers (the cones being set aside for later). You struggle to choose for a little bit, until the darkness started to bother you (you really ought to get a candle of sorts) despite the use of your phone’s screen as light.

 

In the end, a scarf is left on the pedestal and, when it isn't enough, some wrappers and your coat join it; you leave with the orb tucked safely in your bag and a smile on your face as it's red light leaks through. When you pass by the statue again you take a moment to think, looking at the child enveloped in the goat-monster’s arms. In but another moment you're placing Bunny-Cat in the child’s arms, knowing they'd need him more; and that he didn't deserve the rain. You’re mentally preparing to brave the water when you fall, unsteady legs telling you it was time to stop for a moment, a normally scary moment being somewhat quelled by your discovery. A lemon-yellow umbrella now lays just in front of your face, you wait out your numbness and stand, taking it by the handle and looking around for a moment. You shrug, figuring it must have either rolled from behind the statue or...maybe it had been Gaster? He didn't seemed to own any the last time you checked… No matter. You give the statue another curt bow before leaving it to play its song, free from the rain.

 

Soon you're walking through a puddle-filled lake of a room, echo flowers faintly bouncing back rain as you stand for a moment, looking down at your reflection. You sigh, eyes gazing at the lie you'd created, little peaks of silver in your hair the only indication of who you are. You can afford to take a break, you decide, feeling worn down even after taking that long break in the white room from earlier. However, soon you're stooping down to fish a key from the miniature ocean as it had fallen from your bag. A passing conversation then seemed to follow, echoing down the drenched halls.

“It's a beautiful, sunny day…”

“Then why are you crying?”

“It's raining somewhere else…” It must have drifted rather far to have reached into this rainy place, where the weather was a constant storm and erased any words copied without a moment to spare.

 

That's when...you think you see them. They stand with their arms behind their back, head bowed as they stare outwards over the water, clothing and hair drenched with water as it dropped from their face in a mix of salted and fresh water.

‘Chara…?’ They turn despite your lack of audibility, face the picture of despair as they turn and walk away in a familiar way to before. ‘Wait!’ You only to a few meters before dropping the umbrella and sprinting after them, its yellow form left behind as you hear a voice call out.

“Wha-? Where ya going?!” You don't stop despite knowing it's Honeystripes, because Chara is _here,_ rose cheeks and all. Memories blur together with your own as Azzy’s voice echoes in your mind.

 

“Do you really miss it that much…? You don't have to be alone anymore, sib.” You run with a purpose, lungs putting out as much as possible as air rushes through your rapid breaths. His voice echoes only in your mind, calling out to Chara in a way your own voice cannot. The hall twists, giving a view of the echo flowers that had carried the conversation from before, reflecting the same symphony with a chorus of its own as muffled sobs join the mix. You catch them this time, hand catching their shoulder, Chara turns towards you with a daunted expression as your own fills with apologetic sorrow, arms reaching out to them is a desperation normally only shown by a child to its mother.

 

‘Please don't go…’ I mouth, pulling my head back to look at their face, a reflection of my own expression as they give me a small smile, pressing their mouth to my cheek in a gentle motion that grants me the love a sibling feels for just a fleeting moment.

‘...I'm sorry, Frisk.’ They take your purple hand into their own, giving you one last hug until...their form fades and...you're alone again. The only lasting memory being of a gentle touch and your name on their lips. When your eyes turn back to your reflection, your skin is still purple, hair still a mishmash of black, gray, and white; the only difference being your blackened eyes’ return.

 

@#$%&

LV: 1  
HP: 9/9

Your stats have dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Inventory purge!  
> -Chara took back their curse after seeing Frisk fall to their own darkness, they don't want their friend to lose themself like they did.  
> -“It's a beautiful, sunny day…”  
> “Then why are you crying?”  
> “It's raining somewhere else…” This is a reference to a comment I read somewhere. It's Toriel and Asgore talking, take from that what you will.  
> -Differing symptoms of narcolepsy were touched upon as best as I could, I'm working off what I know.  
> -Shyren concert!  
> -Frisk got the ancient artifact!  
> -That umbrella belonged to Toriel, she left it there by mistake and never went back to get it.  
> -Frisk is already horrified that they may have lost their friend, no doubt this will be heartbreaking, to know that Chara may not trust them; planning on touching upon why their bond exists despite their meeting underground being their first in the next chapter.
> 
> Current Inventory:
> 
> Weapon: Worn Bag  
> Armor: Ballet Leotard  
> +Faded Ribbon  
> +Toy Knife  
> +Toriel’s Phone  
> +Book with Notes  
> +Paintbrush  
> +Strange Key  
> +Nice Cream (2)


	19. The Remembrance, We're Alike!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the last chapter being so short, I wrote another to help make up for it (though this one is short too heh heh).

The Reason I Run

 

Hope. A funny word that seemed to escape you as your hand reached towards your reflection in the water. Nothing but dread filled you as you watched puddles grow in size as water rustled their surface and left behind rings of broken hearts and promises of going on forever. Footsteps echoed in the empty cavern until the rain covering you stopped and the pitter-patter of drops on a surface sounded. Your gaze turned upwards to see Markence staring at you from above, looking at you with the same small, pitying smile; one hand held out to you as you on the watery ground. Salt still mixes with the water as his shining spirit guides you back under a rock, keeping a steady hand on your back as your vision blurs with empty sobs; their sound echoing throughout the cavern and wiping away the previous thoughts drawn on by blue flowers. The light ends when you're inside and when you turn back to him he's gone, leaving behind nothing but a sleeping lizard with his tail curled up near your back and an umbrella lying on the floor; still open.

Honeystripes, it was him that had coaxed you here with a steady gaze and free-given kindness you hadn't felt in a long time. The way he'd simply decided to be a friend to you, even after you left him behind with the umbrella but no hands to hold it… It warmed your heart through fevered coughs as you sit-up and watch his sleeping form, pulling the glowing orb from your bag and putting it near him to provide more warmth. You curl up next to the artifact in all its radiantly red light and curse your poor judgement for leaving behind that coat while thanking your decision to take the ball. The ears on your head twitch as you let out a quiet sneeze and purple hands wipe your face- oh…

You had...forgotten to change back?! Why- why had he still…? Honey had still helped you even though you lied to him? Even after he found you out? Why? You didn't understand even as you racked your brain for some sort of answer. Maybe he bought you were someone else…? No, he'd obviously seen you run by earlier in the same attire, Honey knew but he was, somehow, okay with it? No ulterior motive came to mind, taking you to Undyne was out of the question, it left you puzzled in the fact that you may have just made a real friend for but the third time in your life. Markence, Mark, the leader that kept you safe and sane within the Arts. Chara...and now Honeystripes. Speaking of which… it still weighed heavily on your mind that they had taken back what you had tried to help them protect, they had seen the outburst and known not to trust you anymore. You couldn't afford to die now (you wouldn't lie and say you weren't thinking about just taking the easy way out) if you died the monsters would be free, no one would be left in the Underground, much less a human. Chara’s unfinished business would ground them to this mountain’s caves forever and you couldn't let that happen.

But still, you couldn't believe Chara was gone, a bond deeply formed by careful days of silent trust all destroyed by a single gesture of mistrust that then formed a fissure as they took back their curse. They still didn't recall the formation, all positive memories having been destroyed by Merryweather so many years ago. Yet you still felt how important it was to your body and mind that gravitated toward a familiar presence that reminded of that ocean you've never seen-

 

_‘It's called the sea, I saw it with my own eyes once, it's the same color as them; deep blue.’_   
_‘Really?!’ They smiled fondly._   
_‘Yeah...I saw a lot of the outside before I was taken…’_   
_‘...Crux...why do they call you that?’_   
_‘It's an old song my mother sang about a crooked man, I wouldn't stop singing it when they took me; it stuck since I never told them my name. Why do they call you Kuroi?’_   
_‘It used to be Gold...now it's Kuroi. The color of my eyes…’_   
_‘If you got to pick a nickname...what would it be?’_   
_‘I think...Frara.’_   
_‘Why?’_   
_‘Because...well, it reminds me of us, in Vowthen it means “Bond,” what about you?’_   
_‘I just wish I could be me.’_   
_‘I know that feeling.’_   
_‘Frara, huh? Can I call you that, it'll be just for us.’_   
_‘What should I call you then?”_   
_‘How about...Charisk? If we both have combination names then...we’ll never forget.’_   
_‘Yeah!’_

 

-it had been Crux who'd taught you. Taught you the ways of outside that Gerchland never had, about family and trust, who taught you to tap out the letters and words over the course of months so you could talk and keep sane while feigning insanity. These memories surged and drew the image of a silent beginning that took you to words of truth you had left behind; forgotten. The bond you never could remember since all that had happened you knew now; ...Chara is Crux.

 

 **6 Years Prior**  
Crux sat with a blank stare as you both faced each other, her dead eyes giving no indication she was even there. You knew talking with her now would not make any difference, knowing her simple quirks by now. Still...you wanted to get something off your chest without...her hearing. The other children were gone, you hadn't seen a few in some hours, the rest in over twenty-four. You view the scratches made by her with a thankful familiarity at the deep blue they'd turned over time as poison slowly activated over the course of weeks; it was why she was so dangerous when one considered her rabid nature. It must be tiring to always lash out, probably why she takes these long moments to simply sit and sleep with her eyes open (you'd never seen her sleep for real no matter what). You wished you could do that yourself, no times spent in a light doze for fear of being stolen away in the night or even during those paralysing moments when you fall and sleep without meaning.

‘Crux...I feel like...we’re alike.’ You mouth the words carefully, feeling they mean nothing if you only continue to imagine them, ‘It's different with you, I know people wouldn't normally give you the time to see but what else is there to do, right?’ A silent chuckle left no imprint besides the paused in your silent words.

‘When I was younger I had a friend named Markence...he hated the name and his mom too but that's probably why I never got him; I loved my Mon- mom.’ Diving deeper into your own thoughts, you sum up the past in simple phrases that almost make it sound simple itself.

‘They took me from her and taught me to forget my own language, I didn't but it was hard to recall hated words… Then there was Arty…’ You grimace, dropping the subject, ‘Things seem to go the wrong way for me, I can tell we’re alike in that.’

‘There's a method to your madness, I know that, I won't say much though; I know they're watching us. In either case, my name is...Frisk.’ The name felt foreign in the way you mouthed it in careful syllables that you hadn't heard in years.

‘I'd like to think you could tell me yours one day, honestly, I could use a facade like your own but...I know it would only harm me more than they ever could.’ You pause, letting your own words sink in as a tear slips down your face, ‘I can't forget, I have to remember that word, Frisk’ Believed in.

‘Only I can know what it means so long as I'm here.’ You swallow the thickness in your throat, ‘But...I think we could be...friends?’ Her hunched form straightened with a slight snap as her head rose, showing brown roots around the dyed edges of her blue hair (it was likely it looked like that because she once followed orders, this leaving even more question in your mind).

‘Call me “they.”’ She mouthed with only a slight movement, an odd sound coming from barely used lips as they wrenched apart to form actual words instead of growls or to bare teeth. You blink in surprise, not sure if it was the suggestion was strange (considering your circumstances) or that she- they'd even make the attempt to tell you this while risking their status as ‘rabid.’ Still, you smile despite yourself and that circumstance so you suppose it isn't too strange as you eagerly nod your head as they say but four more words as their deep, blue eyes rose to meet your own.

‘My name is Chara.’ Beloved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?  
> -Crux is Chara.  
> -Frara (The Unused Child) is Frisk's nickname.  
> -Charisk (The Awkward Child/Ship Name) is Chara's nickname.  
> -Monster Kid knows...  
> -Merryweather's actions are a large reason for the gaps in Frisk's memory.  
> -Crux taught Frisk a code to speak using tapping motions.  
> -Frisk assumed Crux was a girl because of their long hair.  
> -Crux prefers 'they' for reasons concerning their past.  
> -Frisk means 'Believe in.'  
> -Chara means 'Beloved.'  
> -Frara means 'Bond.'  
> -Frisk thought Monster Kid was Markence because of their similar personalities and looks and their own fevered delusion.  
> -Frisk gets sick easily.


	20. The Past, We're The Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written for awhile but ended up forgetting about it, I've been working on another project I plan on uploading upon completion so my apologies for the long wait. I'll probably get back to this soon but this is all I had from before; enjoy!

The Reason I Run

 

Sometimes they say that life is too short. That there's never enough hours in a day, nor moments to spend away. You disagreed, life was disgustingly long it made you bitter at every turn that this card had been dealt to you. You knew how Frisk felt now, to be going on for all those years when you'd only had to endure a short twelve yourself until purgatory took place. Limbo was awful, you'd see memories pass by with an aching remembrance and an emptiness in a hollow chest; soul passing on without self. It was the eyes, it's always been a curse you'd knew would haunt oh endlessly, still, you thought dying would help Asriel...so it hadn't mattered. It did. Not. Matter. Not if meant their freedom and getting them on the surface to take back what was theirs. In the end, you'd failed and had to watch as your sibling came back to the underground, your body in tow, and laid you to rest in the flower patch as you both slept together; to this day you still didn't know what had happened. The stains in your heart had covered it with the bloodshed once kept as a guise, released easily due to a lack of control that pushed you to revenge.

 

Hatred had fuelled you, eyes flashing with a darkness given by birth and rotten circumstances. You could still recall holding a hand, another kid leading you forward that you called ‘cousin’ and followed without question. Though it was a custom, as you recall, to refer to everyone as that they felt special. The beldam lay in a pool of her own blood along with the entire community, all dead by your cousin’s dirty but loving hands. Hands that only showed love for you with gentle pats of assurance, keeping your own fingers safe in their clutch as you walked forward. They'd love you so much, they would never hurt you, this was something assured to your tiny mind that still held true. They would tell you to do things, little whispers of direction as they tied a blindfold around innocent eyes or covered them with their own in an effort to keep you a child for a little while longer.

 

There are many things you recall about Cousin. Not their name nor gender but their face stayed in true colours. You'd only seen it when the two of you were alone, seen the little sproutlings growing from their head and hair that was always matted with green leaves. The flecks of gold in their brown eyes as they smiled, your tiny hands learning to braid the long hair hanging down their back as they secured your own with a short tail and braids at the sides. It made you feel loved in the way Cousin ran gentle fingers through your strands of brown as they eased the hair dye in so it would take easily to the roots. Soon your blue hair matched the night sky you traveled in as their own matched the treetops; it brought color to both of your lives. You remember the pride when you'd helped them, picking up the gun and tossing the metallic weapon back to them before their arm came around your face and a splatter sounded on the pavement. Then Cousin would lead you away like always, giving words of praise that made your heart surge and your brain forget all the misdeeds you may have missed behind the safety shield they'd given.

 

It had been a happy time due to this ignorant bliss you'd been granted by a down-on-their luck kid and the little sibling they'd claimed. You could recall, now, the way they'd always smiled more with you but how it always had a genuine quality to it, as if your mere presence simply made them happier. It was a lasting relationship that stayed with you until the age of nine, that was when you broke at the sight of pooling stains and a still body.  _ Their  _ body,  _ Cousin’s body,  _ the body of the guardian for all your life past the age of two and the demise of your village. Who was it that held the gun? A human. A human was what you had seen that day, one that stood over your friend’s with a grim-set expression that seemed nothing but malicious to your childhood self. You could recall a time when a lullaby spilled from their lips as they lay you down in the wake of that very nightmare, the one where she died to that exact same person. Cousin had told you that it wasn't real, just a dream, nothing would happen, empty words of fruitlessness.

 

You remember kneeling down in their puddled red life force and shaking their shoulder as tears blurred the picture of their pale face. You can recall begging and yelling and screaming for them to  _ please wake-up!  _ Then an arm dragging you back as you clawed at it with long nails and bit down with canines of a sharpness you hadn't recalled possessing as you ripped the flesh of his arm. The figure had smiled until white teeth, mirroring your own sans the caked on blood and sharper ends, as the human slammed your head to the ground. You awoke days later, ropes burning on your wrists and ankles and head slamming against metallic walls as they moved, you remember fighting, promising to do so until your last breath. The feeling of draining liquid as your fingers dug into the soft skin of a throat as you vow to kill every one of their kind. Memories of your times with Cousin fueling your psychotic rampage with ease as you became filled with  _ determination _ and a lust for blood unlike any other; they caught you after you spent six hours roaming the building and shedding the blood of sixteen others.

 

Many became scared, they put you in isolation and complied to any reasonable demands, such as  _ ‘Blue hair dye.’  _ and  _ ‘Go Away!’  _ Fear kept them dancing in your puppet shows and the palm of your hand loaded with the strings in command; liberation in a world of fools and the easily manipulated. You'd met Frara soon after being declared ‘feral,’ a guise taken up to prevent some manner of the same manipulation from being applied to yourself like it had been to them; at least, based on their stories. They taught them to tap out words when their mouth drew nothing but empty air during attempts at vocal communication. Unfortunately, you'd been given an opportunity and taken it well, applied a new coat of paint to mask yourself that stuck as well as the nickname given by the lullaby you never stopped singing, ‘Crux.’ It had been Frara that had broken out their precious Charisk with a carefully constructed plan that had gone awry so that it was one or the other left to escape. In the end, their friend had been caught purposely and, knowing a deal could not be made, distracted them with casual taunts so you could get away. Such a sacrifice left in vain at what eventually came next.

 

You fell down a mountain with the intent to find the place Cousin had spoken of in stories, a land hidden beneath the mountaintop lying just to the east that housed all sorts of their kind (only theirs if you considered your human half, not that  _ you  _ did). You'd found what you had been seeking, Asriel had come and helped you back with the purest of intentions and Toriel had taken you in with her husband, Asgore. Both cared for you and raised you as their own, weaving new tales that you painted, each one joining together into a book of fairytales. You loved them with your heart and soul and wished nothing more than to help them do anything, that day came when they told you the story of the war. After that you had enlisted Ri’s help in a mission to set them free and finally be rid of the vicious humans that did nothing but steal and destroy the lives of others. He had agreed, gathering up the flowers that burned your hand, and later, your throat. It had been a terrible cycle of sickness that soon followed as the flowers that normally showed nothing but beauty soon withered within you as they clenched together guts and had you spitting up blood. You hadn't told him that this would happen so he didn't try and stop you, it was the most indirect method to keep him from knowing.

 

A soul came free from your body, which was later buried beneath the flowers at the entrance, and merged with your brother's own. He took you back to the surface as you made one last request, to see the grave of Cousin one last time so that you might remind them that they will be remembered by you. Unfortunately, you hadn't seen what had happened, spirit trapped in the Underground by the curse of your birth, the eyes that must remain until freed by another’s assistance. It was all in vain, that plan of yours, Asriel had died when he had returned, spreading ashes all over your body and leaving you alone with no company but your own ghost; alone. You'd give your eyes to the children that fell and trusted you but none succeeded in surfacing and letting your soul be free so you might just see your brother again and beg for his forgiveness. Frisk’s appearance had surprised you unlike any other, seeing their face that had scarcely aged since the last time you'd met. They didn't remember you either but their eyes seemed stuck to your own as if they recalled the gentle blue that had once claimed them; before the curse had set in.

 

It was only later that you recalled the mannerisms of the others before they'd died, children lashing out in anger, drowning in sadness, or tearing into whatever could be found. The curse you held made a person the opposite of their usual self and then promoted a volatile reaction in the event of a need for fight-or-flight, self-preservation, one that had made your innocent self murder those humans. Frisk’s had reminded you too much of your own, you didn't want them to face what you had in resisting the disgusting urges that came round and round, even in happy days. Perhaps if you hadn't had the eyes you may have even been content in living a happy life underground instead of foolishly tricking your brother and getting you both killed for the sake of freedom for your precious ones. You had seen them during those years, eyes blank with terror underneath that was covered in a thick blanket that failed to keep out the cold and only hid the user in a pile of apathy. You had never seen them break but...without their memories it was doubtful that you could stop them, nor anyone else.

  
So, in the end, you'd broken their fragile heart even more as it weighed heavily on your own mind and soul. It was a sacrifice in exchange for what they'd given you all those years ago, a chance, because you'd never be free but...it was worth it to make Fri-  _ Frara,  _ happy again. To make them live a little bit longer, even if they had already rejected the life given to them, because maybe, just maybe, they could find a family as you had. Maybe they could calm the rage against humanity and simply live as you should have when you were alive, to be content with what you have and simply be happy with the happiness you'd all been given. Life wasn't always about opportunity, after all, wasn't it best to, sometimes, just take what you've been given?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss it?
> 
> -This is Chara's memory.  
> -Chara's caretaker was part monster like them and Frisk.  
> -Cousin was used as a name for their caretaker since it was often the excuse given to stay undercover, that they were cousins.


End file.
